Broken
by Jubchili
Summary: Tortured and battered. Shattered and broken. Thranduil must find a way to put her back together again, or risk losing her forever. ThranduilOC. Pre-Legolas.
1. Taken

**Hello. My summary sucks, and I'm trying to make this story a bit more fast paced than my earlier FAILURE of a fic...(an old naruto one)**

 **Please make your reviews kind!**

 **PS - PLEASE TAKE THE TIME TO READ MY AUTHOR'S NOTES. THEY HAVE IMPORTANT INFO SOMETIMES. Thanks.**

* * *

 **TAKEN**

* * *

The dawn's light filtered through the canopy of the Greenwood, lighting up the forest floor with profound shades of green, silver, and gold. It was early spring and the snow had not melted completely. It was still too cold for the children to go outside and play, yet still warm enough for the flowers to push through the semi-frozen soil.

Despite the slight chill, two young girls lingered in the forest, breaking small resistant icicles from the low tree branches and pretending to fight each other, imitating the King's Guard.

They did not speak, but merely clashed frozen sword against frozen sword, a dance of death. Every strike they made created some disturbance in the trees, causing the frost coated dust to fall. It was a magical sight, yet eerie. A sudden snap of a branch startled the girls, causing them to abruptly drop their icicle swords. They shattered when they hit the ground, to the girls' disappointment.

The sun was suddenly obscured by clouds, and the Greenwood took on a dreary grey gloom. The girls became frightened all too soon.

"Let's head back to the palace, Lia"

They were heading straight for the main path which would lead them all the way back to the palace. They were only five minutes away from the palace itself, but the Greenwood was dense and mysterious - you could be lost in five minutes, or fifty. It made little difference.

But the girls knew the forest terrain quite well. They headed onward with surety in their footsteps. Another branch cracked and they startled to a stop. Lia and Eva stood back to back.

"What was that?"

"I'm not sure, Lia. Let's get to the path quickly" The girls were running through the undergrowth now, not worrying if their dresses became stained, or their hair became matted.

They could see the path now, but just before they stepped on to it, a powerful grip pulled them back. Their mouths were gagged with cotton rags before they could scream, and moments after, a blindfold for their eyes. They were flung onto someone's back like a sac of potatoes. They grabbed one another's hand for their lives. The man who carried them both whispered:

"Do not be afraid, we will not hurt you." His voice was sweet, young, and elven. Immediately the girls eased their sense of panic - but only slightly.

Another spoke soon after, his voice much more rugged and unrefined: "Let's get out of this wretched wood quickly. The Greenwood ilk will find out soon enough. We should be as far away from here as possible"

Not for one moment did the girls let go of each other's hands. Not for a moment did they feel fear - for they were together.

* * *

King Oropher was troubled. All the guards had given flawless reports - not one mishap or issue that needed to be dealt with regarding the welfare of the Greenwood. Trade flourished, the people prospered, everything was peaceful. This is what troubled him. There was always one thing or another which led to turmoil in the Greenwood - something that always caused some sort of major issue, within the palace or in the wood itself.

Right now? It was too quiet. Quiet was good, quiet was _stable and much desired._ Yet he felt that something was waiting for him. Something big.

As he pondered on these thoughts, sitting on his lavishly endowed throne, two women entered the main hall. He was good friends with both of them. They had come from the main entrance and they looked incredibly worried, morose, and angry - if it was possible to be all three. And now Oropher knew that his tumultuous 'something' was finally going to reveal itself.

The women bowed hastily.

"Rise. You look worried, Nithroel, Vestele"

"It's our daughters. They've disappeared!" Nithroel spoke hastily and informally, but Oropher did not seem to mind.

"Where? When? Tell me everything" Oropher rose from his throne and signalled for the ladies to follow him.

He lead them towards the entrance of the palace and began rounding up the guards as Vestele narrated their story.

"They wanted to play, so we left them in a clearing in the woods - a place we have visited often and know well. When we noticed that they were not present for their morning meal, we headed out to search for them. We looked for an hour before returning here. There was no sign of them - not a piece of cloth or strand of hair to be found" Vestele's voice was quivering with fear for her daughter.

The king did not know whether he should have been appalled at his guards' incompetence, or the young girls' desire to play in the cold woods. Either way, two missing girls was no small matter. If they were not found soon, Oropher's own reputation would be stained. The guards were sent in all directions - as far and wide as the Greenwood grew. And as long as it took, they would find those girls.

* * *

Lia and Eva were exhausted, though they themselves were not walking. They had not eaten since the night before, and were tired from their morning joust. The gag they were tied with was cutting into their mouths, choking them, though the cloth was not rough. Their blindfolds soaked up the sweat from their foreheads and made their eyes water.

The man who carried them was swift and quick as he ran through the Greenwood. The girls barely felt any turbulence, which they were silently grateful for.

The man abruptly stopped, causing their chins to jerk and strike hard against his back. They groaned, but their hands did not leave each other's grasp.

" _We must leave no trail after this. Be careful"_ He spoke to the rugged sounding man in some strange tongue that neither Lia nor Eva could understand.

" _All right. Rip a piece of their dresses and stain them with blood. That will end the elves' search"_

" _Good idea, comrade"_

The man set the girls down, but they did not budge, for fear of being attacked. The man thought they were smart for staying still. Any other girl would have screamed, but these two were silent as lambs.

"Do not move, or I will cut you by mistake" The man's elven voice made them relax once again.

His knife glided and cut off two large pieces of both their dresses. Then, for the blood, he sliced a shallow cut into his arm and let blood drip onto the cloth, and the ground beneath. He dropped the bloodstained garments and bandaged his arm with another rag.

"Where are we going?" The two men jumped. One of the girls had finally gathered the courage to speak.

It was the short one. Her voice did not sound afraid, only curious - surprising the men even further.

"To a secret place with many elves like you. Special elves" The rugged man spoke with a softer, kinder voice now. He was putting in quite a lot of effort to do so.

The elven man picked up the girls again, slowly this time, and hoisted them over his shoulders. The blood trail they had left would ward off the Green Elves' search for the girls. Now they had to tread carefully, making every effort not to disturb the undergrowth and stillness of the Greenwood.

" _Lord Maro's prophecy was real after all"_ The rugged man said.

" _We cannot be sure just yet..."_ The elf glanced at the two girls he carried - both firmly awake, aware, but not afraid.

 _ **On the seventh day of the seventh month, at seven minutes past dawn, by a marked tree in the Greenwood, you will find the fearless and the feared. Bring them to me, and I shall make them monsters.**_

* * *

 **Good? Intense? I hope...**

 **In the next chapter you will see present day Thranduil.**

 **NOTE: This is sort of like a prologue chapter, and is not particularly important to the main plot, but is necessary to understand how everything comes to be.**


	2. A Bloody Beginning

**Hi again. Hope you liked my intro. King Oropher - I have just learned - was a total hottie just like his son (well at least according to some fanart that I came across...)**

 **But for this fic he (Oropher) is quite old - around 9000 years old (I know it's weird but Thranduil is actually around 6000 years old during the events of The Hobbit). I nearly dropped dead when I read that, but it came from a reliable source. But I'm not really worrying about age in this fic. Let's just say that Thranduil is 19 in human years. Lia and Eva will be 18 now, probably.**

* * *

 **A BLOODY BEGINNING**

* * *

The wind was playing a spiteful game with prince Thranduil's hair. He had left the palace only minutes before - his hair in immaculate condition, each strand in its place. And now his hair was a chaotic, dishevelled mess. Each time he tucked a few stray strands of his long platinum blonde hair behind his ear, the wind would throw it over his face.

He huffed and the hair on his face flew up. He had given up.

Of course, his hair was not particularly important at this precise moment, but Thranduil enjoyed being able to pay more attention to his appearance when there weren't any pressing matters at hand. He took quite a lot of pride in keeping himself well groomed, but the wind did not care for it.

It was a remarkably cloudy day for spring, and his father had warned him before he went out that 'something sinister' would be afoot. Honestly, he thought his father was far too concerned with omens and 'signs' than a good king should be. Not that he knew anything about being a good king... yet.

Aside from the Greenwood taking on a particular shade of grey, Thranduil sensed no ills in the spirit of the forest; nothing strange at all, in fact.

He drew his bowstring before stringing an arrow, to test its tensile strength. It's flexibility was appreciable, but not as good as his father's bow. Thranduil had forged this bow himself - and was quite proud of it too.

The body was made of yew and heartwood - the rarest wood in Eryn Galen, and the grip was exquisitely carved. The arrows matching the bow had golden feathers attached at the end. Each arrow head gleamed, even in the pale light.

Thranduil adored the bow and arrow as a weapon. It was an elegant piece of art - one that took time and great care to create, and yet a dangerous device - a bringer of death. His skill with the bow was superlative - unchallenged. From the ranks of the King's Guard, to elves from as far as Rivendell and Lothlorien - none matched his precision and speed.

As usual, he was proud.

* * *

Thranduil crouched behind a thick bushel when he spotted a massive spider some distance away. The spiders had indeed become daring, to be venturing so close to the palace. The elves still had no idea where they were coming from, however. Perhaps this was the sinister something his father warned him of. No matter - they were easy to deal with from a distance.

Thranduil strung his bow with an arrow and pulled the bowstring till his cheek. His eye aligned with the spider's head and his bow moved into place.

He breathed out audibly and relaxed his muscles, but just before he made his shot, he heard the snap of a bowstring. The sharp sound caused the birds in the trees to scatter fearfully.

The spider gave a low groan, and toppled on it's side - dead. Thranduil was impressed - the shot was so accurate that the arrow had pierced the spider's _eye_. However his arrow was still strung on his bow, and it took a moment for him to realize that it was not _his_ arrow which had met it's mark.

There was someone close by. He knew it was not one of the King's Guard almost immediately. None of the Guard elves travel through the Greenwood on their own, so he would have heard something.

Thranduil's guard was up. He pulled his bowstring further back to get a longer range. His elf eyes scanned the undergrowth for movement. Past the spider's corpse he observed something - a brown cloak. Suddenly another bowstring snapped and he was acutely aware that the arrow was now aimed at _his eye._

But Thranduil's marksmanship was impeccable. His arrow intercepted the other, and in a trice an arrow was restrung and fired. His successive shots were met with more interceptions.

His opponent was skilled, dare he say as skilled as he. One arrow came as close as a hair's breadth from his cheek, but he dodged just in time - the arrow embedding itself in the tree behind him. his opponent emerged from behind a tree, farther than Thranduil expected him to be. His brown cloak blended well with the foliage of the Greenwood. A hood obscured his face. Thranduil waited before he strung another arrow. Something was wrong. Why was he simply revealing himself like that?

Then the man waved behind him, beckoning some unseen person to follow. Now, Thranduil saw another man in a similar cloak. They picked their way through the thickets and brambles, coming closer and closer towards him. Did they think they had killed him? The corner of Thranduil's mouth curved up ever so slightly as he strung another arrow and aimed through the bushel.

If _this_ was the sinister something his father spoke of, then perhaps it was time to finish it.

Thranduil exhaled and fired calmly this time - completely in control. What happened next surprised both him and the two men.

His arrow went through the second man's leg, causing him to drop down on his knees and groan. Before Thranduil even thought of stringing his next arrow, he found one protruding from his bow hand. The bowman had shot him.

He dropped his bow and his face twisted in pain - but he made no sound. The bowman was covering his comrade from view.

 _What a strange tactic, acting as a shield..._

He waited for Thranduil to make a move.

And he did, soon enough.

He broke a piece off the arrow and pulled it from his hand. He cringed and tensed with pain. He wrapped the wound in a bandage from his belt and drew his twin blades. He stood up from his crouch and regarded his opponents. The cloaked man drew his bow with impossible speed and had it aimed at Thranduil's head.

Thranduil changed his stance to make himself as small a target as possible. He bent low. For a moment all of them were silent, gauging each other's strengths and weaknesses - deciding the best move. Suddenly, the wounded man stood up - as if the arrow in his leg was merely a scratch. Thranduil was surprised by this, and it nearly caught him off guard.

The bowman fired, but Thranduil expertly cut the arrow with his twin blades, and charged towards the two men. At such a close proximity, it would be impossible to use the bow properly. He lunged at the man, who had quickly retracted his bow and was reaching for a knife. Thranduil was faster. His knife made a slicing sound against cloth and skin, and the man twisted around and fell to the ground.

The other man promptly drew his knives - also twin blades. When Thranduil observed the blades closely, he noticed they were of the same make as his. Though the arrow was still in the man's leg, he revealed no emotion of pain.

Thranduil lunged once more, his elven grace startling the man for a moment. However the man was quick and equally graceful. He pushed off the ground and flipped over Thranduil, whose blade followed the man's trajectory in the air - barely missing its mark. When he landed, Thranduil found an opening and struck, but the man's reflexes outdid him and he dodged. The man suddenly began lashing and striking Thranduil's blades with strong static and broken movements. Completely uncontrolled. The sudden change in his style of offence threw Thranduil off guard, leaving him open to several attacks.

Suddenly the man faltered.

He found his opening.

Thranduil finally retaliated after receiving several deep wounds. His movements were the exact opposite - fluid and graceful. Now, he was back in control. He managed to land a few blows, but the man quickly adapted.

Blade clashed against blade, each stroke missing its mark by a hair's breadth.

Suddenly Thranduil felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. An arrow.

He twisted out of the blade wielder's way and stood face to face against both men. The man he had cut across the chest had used his cloak to stop the bleeding, but his hood was still covering his face.

Thranduil was beginning to realize that the odds were stacked against him. He could not win in this condition. The present situation called for something a little beneath him, but at the moment there was no other option. He raised his hands above his head.

He was about to drop his blades when the bowman's bow suddenly shattered into useless wooden splinters. Thranduil saw from the corner of his eye movement in the trees. The King's Guard.

Not wanting to appear utterly useless, Thranduil crossed his arms back and swung his blades at the distracted men. His blades lodged themselves deep in the men's shoulders, and provided enough force to knock them backwards. They fell to the ground with a thud. Members of the King's Guard surrounded the two fallen intruders, their bows aimed and ready.

"Prince Thranduil, you're wounded!" One of the elves rushed to his side. Most of them approached him - a few kept their bows drawn and aimed at the incapacitated men. A female elf of the Guard began re-bandaging Thranduil's hand.

"I'm f-" But the effect of adrenalin wore off, and Thranduil collapsed.

"My chest" Thranduil groaned. He had lost blood from cuts in his chest, and was probably bleeding internally. The arrow in his shoulder was no help either.

"You're bleeding from everywhere, my prince. We must get you back to the palace as quickly as possible. Ehrendil" The she-elf addressed another elf of the Guard. "I am taking the prince back on my horse. You dispose of those barbarians quickly"

"No, Nlaea" Thranduil's voice was breathy and strained. The strain on his body was far more than he had anticipated.

"My prince? I don't understand..." Ehrendil helped Thranduil onto Nlaea's horse as she spoke.

"Ehrendil, take them to my father. _Alive_ "

"Yes, prince Thranduil" He bowed.

As Thranduil rode behind Nlaea back to the palace, he saw the two intruders being manhandled and thrown onto the horses like sacks of potatoes. His blades had been removed from their shoulders, but the arrow was still in the blade wielder's leg. Hopefully, they would not bleed out before they reached the palace.

Hopefully, _he_ would not bleed out before they reached the palace.

* * *

 **This is my first attempt at writing an action scene in Tolkien's world. How'd I do?**

 **I have a tendency to put in a bit too much detail - usually I imagine the fight like a movie in my head before describing it in words.**

 **PLEASE REVIEW! (But be kind!). Gah I'm nervous...**


	3. Athelas I

**I hope Chapter 2 was appealing...**

 **This chapter is where things connect... a bit?**

 **PS - I'm not sure as to whether I should capitalize the words 'king' and 'prince' whenever they're mentioned... can anyone clear that up for me?**

* * *

 **ATHELAS I**

* * *

The guards stationed outside the main entrance to king Oropher's palace sat idly, twiddling their thumbs and fidgeting. Luckily, the sun was obscured and they did not have to feel it's menacing waves of heat.

About half an hour ago they stood at attention for prince Thranduil's departure, followed closely by a small part of the King's Guard. King Oropher, concerned as he always was about omens and prophecies and the like - sent the Guard to keep an eye on his son, knowing that something would happen.

His visions and predictions were treated with scepticism from the Silvan elves, but in the end he was usually right. The Sindarin elves of his Council only agreed with him to appease him, as was the common conjecture.

The guards were suddenly startled when one of the Guard's horses emerged from the forest. On its back they saw Nlaea - a captain of the King's Guard. Sitting behind her, with his forehead against her shoulder, was prince Thranduil. The guards jumped with surprise when he started to slip off the horse. They swiftly went to his aid.

"Take him to the healing chambers. Quickly!" Nlaea ordered the guards. "And send for the King! She called back to them as she guided her horse to the side gate which led to the stables.

The guards helped Thranduil to the healing chambers - one of them holding him on each side, and the other two barking out orders at Leilath - the chief healer, and a loitering guard.

"Lay him down gently! He's not a bag of grain for Eru's sake!" Leilath's voice was loud, coarse, and demanding.

She was a stout elf with incredibly long, thin silvery-grey hair. Her back was slightly hunched and she walked with the help of a wooden staff. She used to be tall, and quite beautiful, but her back was now bent with age. It was rare for elves to ever show signs of ageing akin to those of common womenfolk, but if you were particularly bitter, it tended to show outwardly - with age, that is.

She was fierce and quite boisterous for her age, but commanded the utmost respect from the other elves - Silvan and Sindarin alike.

Thranduil was bleeding through his bandages. He was out cold from the blood loss - which was already out of hand. Leilath noticed beads of sweat rolling down from his forehead. He was burning up.

"Bring me the athelas. Hurry up you twit! Or do you want to be the one to inform Oropher that his son is dead?" Leilath spat at the guard's foot and pointed to where she kept the Kingsfoil.

Once Leilath had bandaged up Thranduil with the athelas herbs she began her elvish chanting. The athelas began to take effect and slowly but surely, Thranduil's wounds closed and left only a thin black line in their wake.

"Let him rest"

The guard left in a hurry, relieved to be out of Leilath's way.

Leilath began voicing her thoughts.

"Honestly, he's as reckless as ever, but it's never been _this_ bad... I am curious to know who did this... surely not one of those repulsive spiders?" She pondered on these thoughts for a while.

"Lady Leilath!" The guard had returned.

"Hmm? I thought I told you to let him rest!" Leilath's hands were on her hips as she shot the guard a fierce glare.

"There are two more coming here... I believe they are the one's who attacked the prince..." the guard twitched nervously.

Leilath grumbled. "Absolutely not! Send them away to Nlaea. She may have athelas from me, but no more!"

* * *

Thranduil awoke to whispering. He saw his father and mother conversing with one another at the head of his bed.

"How long was I asleep?" Thranduil sat up without any difficulty - thanks to Leilath's effective athelas.

"Only an hour or so. Leilath's healing ability surpasses all others'" His mother smiled fondly at him.

"Flattery has no effect on me!" Leilath's coarse voice drifted through the healing chamber from the store room.

Ignoring her, Oropher sat beside Thranduil.

"Why did you order those men healed?"

"I think they are elves. Their fighting was strange, but their weapons were forged by our kin"

Oropher considered this, and did not dismiss it immediately. It was very likely that if any one was able to bring Thranduil to this state, it could only be another elf. Or elves, in this case. He had raised his son a fine warrior, and would be damned if he could fall to the hand of any lesser species.

"Fine. They shall be interrogated. If you are strong enough, then you may join me"

"Oropher!" Thranduil's mother chided. "He's is no state to be going anywhere"

"He's completely fine, Themra. Athelas works quickly, and Thranduil is strong" Leilath emerged from the store room carrying several vials of assorted potions.

"Did you heal those men, Leilath?" Thranduil asked, as she offered him one of the vials. He eyed it suspiciously before shrugging and downing it in one gulp. It tasted sweet.

"No. I gave Nlaea athelas to use herself. I will play no part in reviving barbarians"

Thranduil grumbled but accepted Leilath's stubbornness as something resolute.

"Can we go now?"

"Yes. Get dressed and join me in the throne room"

* * *

After Thranduil was dressed he made his way to the throne room - which was not strictly a room, more like a chamber connecting various halls. The whole palace was like an enchanted maze. Thranduil adored these halls, but it was easy to get lost, no matter how many years one has spent there.

He saw his father sitting on his throne, legs crossed informally and chin propped with his hand. He looked incredibly comical.

"You're just in time. They're here" Oropher got up and joined his son at the bottom of the steps leading up to the throne.

Thranduil turned and saw the two presumed elves being dragged along by two members of the Guard. Nlaea walked a few paces behind them.

"As you requested, prince Thranduil" Nlaea bowed and took her place on Thranduil's right hand side.

The two elves on the ground were still in their hooded brown cloaks. Now that Thranduil had a better view of them, he saw just how small they were compared to him. Their cloaks, he observed, were made of some coarse material - nothing that could provide proper warmth.

Their heads were bowed in submission; Thranduil silently smirked at their current situation. They were condemned to this fate from the moment they entered the Greenwood. It simply took slightly longer than necessary to seal their fate.

Oropher motioned with his hand and the two guards pulled the elves' heads up and removed their hoods in one swift motion. Thranduil often marvelled at his father's ability to initiate order with the wave of his hands. Each nuance in his motion would be understood by all the guards, maids, and even the horses. He hoped that one day even he would be able to achieve such seamless resonance with his people when he became king.

The eyes which watched the king and prince of the woodland realm were defiant.

Thranduil's eyes widened and he _very nearly_ gaped. Oropher's eyebrows shot up. Nlaea did not move a muscle, for she had already seen...

The two kneeling elves which stared back at Oropher and Thranduil... they were women.

* * *

Thranduil took more than a minute to fully comprehend the situation.

If it wasn't for their pointed ears, Thranduil would have easily mistaken them for human women. Even then, they were hard to identify as elves. Their faces did not posses the same elven beauty or proportions.

They were stained with dirt and blood and their hair was matted and tangled.

One had light, pale brown hair, and the other had wine red hair - a very rare trait in an elf, in fact Thranduil knew of only one other elf with such hair.

Both had their hair tied back, but their faces still seemed shrouded by a layer of dirt. Their condition was pathetic. Thranduil could not even call them remotely beautiful in this state. Their eyes were tired and teary.

"Which one of you shot my son?" Oropher asked, a deathly calm in his voice.

He was very good at suppressing his emotions. In fact, he was probably even more astonished than Thranduil was at the moment, but he revealed nothing.

The elves made no move to communicate. They stared back at the two royals with judgemental eyes. The red-head's eyes were jade, and the brunettes eyes were crystal blue. Thranduil was enchanted by them.

"Speak, elven ilk" Nlaea spat. Never did any of the elves present think _even once_ that the word 'Elven' and the word 'ilk' could possibly be used in the same sentence. Yet, they could.

Both guards pressed their blades against the elves' throats. Still they made no move. Their eyes travelled from Oropher and Thranduil to the rest of the chamber. The red-head's eyes widened and darted from each area to the next. The other elf eyed the throne itself. Thranduil couldn't blame them. All the chambers were a beautiful sight to behold, but it all became quite mundane after living there for centuries. However, they seemed mesmerized.

"No need to be so rough. Perhaps they do not speak the common tongue" Oropher said. Immediately the guards relaxed their grip on the elves.

" _Who are you?"_ Thranduil asked in fluent Nandorin.

The elves' eyes darted back to Thranduil. They seemed to understand him, but made no move to speak. They looked at each other and then back at him. Suddenly Thranduil felt like he was the one being interrogated.

They suddenly spoke - but neither Thranduil nor Oropher could identify their strange tongue. The words had the same melody and flow as Sindarin and Nandorin, yet none of the words were comprehensible. It was as if they were simply making up their own words.

They conversed with each other - the red-head pleading with the brunette for something or the other. The brunette continued to eye the royals - Thranduil in particular - with a piercing gaze. Considering the fact that she was exhausted, it wasn't as piercing as she would have liked.

Suddenly the red-head started shaking. The guard tightened his grip, causing the red-head to go limp completely. She coughed and blood appeared at the corner of her mouth. It was also beginning to leak from her eyes and nose. The brunette cried out her comrade's name. Thranduil heard it as Evanna.

She turned to them and spoke in Sindarin, _"Please, please help her!"_

The brunette pulled against the guard's grip towards her comrade. She looked at Oropher and Thranduil with pleading eyes. Tears began streaking her face. Thranduil for one was astonished that her personality could change so quickly.

" _We were poisoned before we reached these woods. Please, you must help her!"_

" _Both of you were poisoned?"_ Oropher made no move to aid the fallen elf as he spoke.

" _Yes. Any minute now I'm going to-"_ But before she could finish, she collapsed.

Though the blood streaked her face, overflowing from her eyes, she looked up at Oropher.

" _Please help us"_

"Father, I think we should-"

"Yes, I know. Take them to Leilath immediately. I have a feeling that she will not refuse them this time..." With the waved of a hand the guards lifted the limp elves and headed to the healing chamber. Nlaea began to follow before she was called.

"Nlaea"

She turned slowly.

"Yes, my king?"

"Next time, please be a little more precise in your reports"

"Yes, my king. Forgive me"

"You may go"

Nlaea left without another word. Leilath was definitely in for a surprise.

* * *

 **Not exactly how I planned it out - but close enough. I wanted to save the proper character descriptions for later - when the girls are washed up and clean and put into pretty dresses.**

 **Review, or do whatever you want...**

 **Tell me all your theories and who you ship with who. I'm excited to see what everyone thinks!**


	4. Athelas II

**Ready for chapter 4!? HERE WE GO!**

* * *

 **ATHELAS II**

* * *

Leilath was busy clearing up the mess Thranduil had forced her to create when a knock on the door interrupted her.

"Whaddaya want" Leilath yelled through the door. On the other side, Nlaea and the guards jumped.

"Lady Leilath, the king has asked you to heal-" Nlaea began explaining but was rudely, as is the norm with Leilath, interrupted.

"I don't care what that idiot wants. He can do it himself!" A crashing sound from inside the healing chamber made Nlaea flinch.

"Leilath please!"

The door cracked open and Leilath regarded Nlaea.

"Please what?"

"King Oropher has ordered these elves to be healed. They were poisoned by something I can't identify"

Leilath opened the door completely and eyed the two elves in the guards' arms. They were jerking at regular intervals and had blood leaking from various orifices. Their skin was unnaturally wrinkled. Leilath's expression turned grave. Her brow furrowed.

"Impossible" Leilath mumbled.

"What is?" Nlaea walked with Leilath as she hobbled deeper into the healing chamber.

"Lay them there" Leilath pointed with her stick and the guards followed suit. They left moments after.

"The signs point only to Ondohithui*" Leilath was rummaging through the store room.

Nlaea gasped. Ondohithui was a powerful poison, used mainly by orcs and men who resided high in the mountains, where the snow never ceased to fall.

"But that can't be! They should be dead by now..." Nlaea cast a look at the two elves, who were still very much alive.

"You think I don't know that?!" Leilath emerged from the store room with a book as thick as ten. It was covered in dust.

She laid it out on her table and began searching for Ondohithui.

"Return in a few hours, Nlaea. I will resolve this" Leilath prodded Nlaea with her stick, and then pointed to the door.

Nlaea bowed and left hastily.

 _Now. To deal with this devilry..._ thought Leilath.

If they were truly poisoned with Ondohithui, they would have been dead within minutes of the poison being administered. Unless they had some kind of resistance... This new situation baffled Leilath to no end. When she finally found Ondohithui in her book of poisons, the symptoms were parallel. She read out the entry in her mind:

 _Poison: ONDOHITHUI_

 _Origin: High peaks, cold mountain tops_

 _Species: Lichen_

 _Symptoms: Blood from orifices, dehydration, nervous interference (violent convulsing)_

 _End effect: Death within minutes of ingestion._

 _Treatment: Blood draining. Kingsfoil healing._

Leilath knew that whenever athelas was written as Kingsfoil it meant that it had to be used by a king, or else no effect would come of it. Such a stupid herb - doesn't work as well when there isn't a king around. Leilath frequently pondered as to whether the Numenoreans were competent at all.

Blood draining was something she could do, and quite well if she could judge herself.

"Ah my pretty, pretty she-elves. Time to cut up those bandages" She had a sinister edge to her voice, but the elves were too disoriented to notice.

* * *

After about three hours, Nlaea returned to the healing chambers, only to find Leilath soaked in blood. Her robe was completely red from top to bottom, and the floor was covered with dark crimson puddles. The beds where the elves had been laying were dripping. Leilath looked like a demon with all that blood on her. Nlaea wanted to scream.

"Lady Leilath what did you do!" Nlaea threw up her hands in exasperation.

"Just a bit of blood draining dear, nothing to be worried about"

"Where are the elves?!" Nlaea expected Leilath to say they were dead.

"They're further in. I need you to get the king for me. He has a bit of Kingsfoiling to do" Leilath squeezed the train of her robe. Blood dripped as if from a sponge.

"Can't you do it yourself?" Nlaea shivered and tip-toed through the healing chambers, carefully avoiding the blood puddles.

Eru would damn her if she stained king Oropher's halls with blood from a rogue.

She peeked around the wall at the end of the front hall and saw the two elves, both resting on the same bed. There was no blood around them. She sighed with relief.

Leilath's annoyance grew. If the vein in her forehead could become any more prominent than it was, it would surely burst.

"KINGSFOIL! Now go and get him"

Nlaea rushed out without another word.

* * *

When Oropher entered the healing chambers, he expected Nlaea's earlier accusations against Leilath to be a jest on her part. Of course, he was wrong. Leilath had outdone herself with the blood draining. She seemed to be deliberately testing his patience - which for her was infinite. She often forgot that. But then again she was becoming quite old. She could have beheaded his entire King's Guard, along with the Elven Guard, and he would probably forgive her for it. She was an asset, no, an elf worth forgiving. Even for the worst crimes.

"Leilath, you asked for me?" Oropher pulled up his robe and carefully stepped over the puddles of blood, which were now lumpy and coagulated.

"Ah finally! Oropher get over here and heal them with the kingsfoil" Leilath had changed into a clean robe, which Nlaea thanked the holy creator for.

"I would have thought you were perfectly capable of-"

"Yes, yes, but this time it's different. They've been poisoned with Ondohithui. Only a king can undertake this healing"

"Ondohithui!" Oropher stood open mouthed, but quickly recovered. He was a king, after all. "Impossible! They should have been dead wi-"

"-Within minutes, I know" Leilath lead them further into the chamber, where sure enough, the elves were laying beside each other, not a drop of blood on them. Just as Nlaea had related.

"Then how can it be Ondohithui?"

"I don't know. We have to ask them. Now get to your healing!" Leilath shoved a humongous bundle of athelas into Oropher's arms.

"I don't need _this_ much!"

"Yes, well I want it done quickly. There is some strange devilry afoot here and I need to know what it is!"

Oropher sighed and shook his head. Always in a rush, this woman was. He sat beside the elves, who were now sleeping. Now that they weren't wearing their cloaks, Oropher could observe them properly.

They wore some strange black clothing. It was hard like armour yet flexible enough to wear as a garment. They bore no crest or mark of any kind - nothing to identify them with. All their weapons had been removed from them and taken to the armoury. Thranduil had said they were of elvish make, but Oropher had yet to study them.

 _Who are you..._

For now, he pushed aside all other thoughts. He had to prepare for the healing.

The elves' breaths were shallow and uneven, but they were alive. Undoing the bundle of kingsfoil, he laid it out evenly over them and raised his hands.

Nlaea watched curiously. She had only once or twice seen Oropher heal with kingsfoil, and it was much more interesting than Leilath's healing. He chanted softly and quickly, but Nlaea was able to identify some words of Sindarin. The chanting could be done in the common tongue as well, but elves were very conceited and egotistical, so it was translated to Sindarin for the sake of keeping up appearances. The athelas glowed and slowly disappeared, leaving behind a thin layer of golden powder around the elves. Their breathing deepened and became more even.

"Are you finished yet?" Leilath called from the store room. Nlaea hadn't even noticed when she left their vicinity.

"Patience, Leilath" Oropher chanted some more words, and the golden ash disappeared.

Leilath returned with ink and parchment.

"All right, you can leave now. I wish to interrogate them myself"

Oropher raised an eyebrow at her and stood up, stumbling slightly. Nlaea caught and steadied him.

"Shall I get you your staff, Oropher?" Leilath chuckled.

"Hardly. I would think using _this_ much athelas at once would take its toll on anyone..." Oropher shook his head to get rid of the dizziness.

"After you've finished with them, I want them cleaned up and brought to the armoury"

"Yes, yes, all in good time!" Leilath chimed. She had an unfamiliar skip in her step and a kooky smile on her face as she led Oropher and Nlaea out of the healing chambers.

Things were about to get interesting.

* * *

 _ ***Ondohithui is a poison of Middle Earth. I found it on the role playing wiki - so I'm not sure of the details regarding the symptoms etc... I'm not even sure if its actually FROM Middle Earth, but this is fanfiction so anything goes.**_

 **I need to get more Thranduil into the story. Hopefully by the next chapter he'll be the centre of attention. Right now it feels like the main characters are Leilath, Nlaea, and Oropher!**

 **Leilath is so un-elf-like, it's so fun to write her character.**

 **Please review! But be kind because I have feelings too.**


	5. Interrogation I

**Now I'm starting to write slightly longer chapters. Most will be 3000 words + (or at least around 2000+ if I'm feeling ultra lazy). The main reason for this is that Thranduil's part in the story is going to be made more elaborate. I hope you guys get my meaning...**

 **Let's go! CHAPTER 5!**

* * *

 **INTERROGATION I**

* * *

Leilath returned to where the foreign elves lay. One of them - the brown haired one - had begun to sweat. Her blood was tainted with even more poison than the other elf, yet she showed the main symptoms afterwards. She had lost a lot of blood during the draining process, causing her to develop another fever. Leilath found one of her many concoctions and forced it down her throat to make the fever go down.

She was still shivering slightly.

* * *

She saw the elf when he stood, graceful and lithe as any other. Not only did his aim rival Evanna's, it was perhaps, even better.

He had shot her in the leg, but she felt the pain only because of the poison already in her blood.

She turned her head up slightly, drinking in the whole of him. She stared, stunned. Rarely did she call anything beautiful, for most of what she had seen in her life was death and war, but the elf who stood before them now was truly, entirely, beautiful.

His golden hair was so pale it was silver, and his turquoise blue eyes so pale they were grey. But what drew her attention the most were his eyebrows. His dark grey eyebrows. They in themselves were miracles of nature; there truly was no other way to put it.

His face was round, not as chiselled and sharp as most elves, and he was tall. So very very tall. He was much bigger than most of the elves she had come across during her life, and she wondered if all the Silvan elves were like this: having such a strong presence.

She stood up, ready to face him. He seemed surprised that she could stand with the arrow still in her leg - and that was the effect she was going for.

In a trice, Evanna released her arrow. He expertly sliced it into two with his blades. When she observed them, she found them to be quite similar to hers. Twin blades forged by an Elven hand.

In a moment he was on Evanna, surprising her. Evanna was cut to the ground in a single strike. She wanted to cry out for Evanna, but she stood her ground and pulled out her own blades.

Suddenly he lunged, with such seamlessness and fluidity that it startled her. No elf could possibly fight like this! He seemed more like he was dancing rather than fighting.

She reacted quickly and pushed off the ground, performing a graceful somersault over him. When she landed, she instinctively dodged the attack which she knew he would go for. When she attacked him, it was with strong, broken, uncoordinated movements.

This type of fighting was very bizarre and unknown to elves, which made it a useful weapon against them. She was able to land several strong blows on him. Her blades were soon covered with his blood.

She smiled for it.

But then the poison decided to act up. She felt the pain radiating through her, and did her best to ignore it, but to no avail. The elf was able to perform a counter attack and cut her several times.

She forced her body to ignore the poison and fight on.

Their blades clashed noisily, resonating in the eerie silence of the Greenwood. Neither of the them made any sounds - no cries when slashed, no grunts when attacking.

She sensed that Evanna had risen. The poison was probably numbing her by now. She heard the bow string snap and no sooner did an arrow protrude from the elf's shoulder. Evanna never missed her mark.

The elf twisted away from her and stood face to face against them both. He had probably realized that there was no way he could win against them - two professionally trained assassins.

He raised his hands above his head, and his grip on his blades slackened.

They had won.

That was when Evanna's bow shattered with a hideous crack, breaking into an infinite number of splinters. Evanna's hands were shaking slightly - out of surprise _and_ effect of the poison.

Before she could deduce from where the foreign arrow had emerged, a massive force knocked her on her back. This wound was much deeper than the others, and caused the poison to spread further and faster.

The pain radiated. She did not want to take the effort to stand up again.

The pain.

Radiated.

* * *

The elf woke up as if she were waking from a nightmare. Leilath immediately rushed to her side to calm her down and assure her she was safe.

"Everything's fine, child. You are in Oropher's palace, of the Woodland Realm"

The elf relaxed. She ignored Leilath completely and turned to her red haired comrade who was resting by her.

"Is she all right?" The softness of the elf's voice startled Leilath for a moment.

"Yes. She had less poison in her than you. I'm frankly surprised that you're even alive! Both of you!" Leilath sat herself down on a stool beside the bed. "I've got some stuff to ask you, if you're willing, that is..."

"No"

"Oh child, please" She didn't say it like a request, more like a sarcastic disregard for the denial of her request. "I am not the king. What you say here will not affect your fate with him"

"It doesn't matter. I will say nothing until-" Suddenly the red haired elf stirred. She peeled her eyes open and sat up slowly. "Evanna!" The elf wrapped her arms around the sleepy red-head.

"I'm fine" She said in a groggy voice. "What happened?"

"You were stabbed and wounded. I healed you up" Leilath pointed to herself with a thumb, looking proud.

"Thank you, elderly elven woman" The red head regarded her kindly.

 _Much more amiable than that brown haired one._ Leilath thought. "Call me Lady Leilath. Now, I have some questions..."

"About what?" The elf, Evanna, asked with interest. The other elf glared at her.

"We can't tell her anything! We have to get out of here..." She scanned the healing chambers but found nothing of interest. Leilath smirked.

"Oh there's no way out unless I say there is, dear elf. Now, will you answer willingly or must I re-administer the poison?" Leilath glared at them with one eye.

"What do you want?" The brunette spat.

"No need to be so bloody rude. I'm a high elf you know. Show some respect!" Leilath waved her staff about to emphasize her point.

"She's sorry. Just ask us the questions" Evanna sat up straighter and her companion did the same. They were ready to listen.

"You were poisoned with something called Ondohithui. It's a very powerful poisons which-"

"Yes, we know" Both elves chimed, with disinterest in their voices. Leilath was surprised, to say the least.

"You know!? Well then how in the name of the bloody Valar did you survive!?"

"We..." The elves looked at each other and tried to come to a conclusion to the sentence. "...Fought it off, I guess" Evanna completed.

Leilath was gaping. "FOUGHT IT OFF? You can't bloody well FIGHT OFF a poison which is designed to kill you in mere minutes!"

"We were trained with poisons since we were young. There is always a way to fight them" Evanna explained.

"Trained? Care to elaborate?" Leilath waved her stick about in circles to make her point.

"We don't wish to reveal that" The brunette cut in before Evanna had a chance to speak.

Leilath grumbled. "Fine. Then tell me what you were doing in the Greenwood in the first place"

"We were just... passing through" The brunette spoke cautiously, afraid to give too much away.

"Oh, and while you were just 'passing through', you just happened to nearly kill the prince of the Greenwood?! Oh yes that's a perfectly _reasonable_ explanation. I'll just call the king over and say you were 'passing through', shall I?" Leilath waved her stick about in annoyance.

"That elf we fought was the _prince?!"_ , the brunette scoffed. "Well your standard for a prince's strength must be remarkably-"

She was cut off by Evanna, who promptly elbowed her in the side.

"...high", the brunette ended, rubbing her side and shooting Evanna an annoyed look.

"Anyway, that is the truth, Lady Leilath" Evanna politely regarded her.

 _How different they are. Yet the brown haired one cares so much for the red-head's well being... Strange..._

"One last thing... Where did you come _from_?"

"The south. Far beyond the Golden Realm of elves" The brunette replied rather politely this time.

"You mean Lothlorien?"

"Yes" Evanna replied.

Leilath thought for some time. "You are not _of_ Lorien, are you?" _They sure as hell don't look it_

"We aren't from any Elven realm, or house" The brunette said, as she attempted to swing her legs off the bed and stand up.

"Don't bother. Oropher had me chain you down" The brunette pulled against the chains, annoyed that she hadn't noticed them before. She sat back down and grumbled.

"Is that all you'd like to know?" Evanna smiled sweetly.

 _She's doing it on purpose now..._

"Yes. I'll clean you two up and then you'll be off to meet the king and his son. You know, the one you nearly killed" Leilath got up from the stool and went back to the store room.

A few minutes later she emerged with two old, dusty uniforms of the original Elven Guard.

"These will have to do for now. Can't put you in pretty dresses just yet" She chuckled and laid the uniforms on the bed. "I'm unchaining you now, but don't even think of running. You're still weak from the poison, and the athelas hasn't completed its work yet"

Leilath produced a key from within her multiple layers of clothing and unlocked the chains which bound the elves to the bed. She turned and headed back to the storage room to rummage for something or the other while the elves changed clothes. Oropher was expecting them soon.

* * *

Thranduil was in his chambers, staring idly at the Greenwood through a window. It looked so serene, and one could not possibly fathom that an intense battle had just been taking place within its borders, from watching it from where he was now. _Oh how looks deceive_ , he was thinking. His reverie was interrupted by the banging of the door.

"Come-" The door swung open with a force so strong that it actually made his hair fly. "-in" He finished as he turned around, although he didn't need to as he already knew who it most likely was.

"You IDIOT!" The elf strode up to him and slapped him hard across the cheek. He was expecting something like that.

"You..." She curled her hands into a fist. "...IDIOT!"

"I heard you the first time, Verona" Thranduil replied calmly, rubbing the cheek she had slapped.

"You don't just go out there and get yourself done in like that!" Verona plopped herself down on his armchair and huffed.

"Nlaea and her big mouth" Thranduil muttered under his breath, but Verona heard him anyway.

"Nlaea saved your ass. So be grateful" Thranduil cringed at her strong language.

"Language, Verona"

"Oh don't worry about my _language_. You need to focus on not getting killed"

"I'm doing just fine as far as I can see"

"Just shut up" She stood up and regarded him. Unexpectedly, she threw her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. Her face was buried into his neck, soft against his skin. His arms remained stationary, hanging by his side.

"I thought you were ma-"

"Didn't I just tell you to shut up"

They stood that way for a while, leaving the world to its musings. When Verona finally released him, she didn't pull away completely. Her forehead rested against Thranduil's chest and her arms were still loosely hung around his neck. He finally pulled her arms off him and took a step back, but he didn't let go of her arms.

He often forgot how stunningly beautiful Verona was. Her raven blue-black hair fell straight down to the small of her back. Her almond shaped eyes were like shining turquoises, which crinkled at the corners every time she smiled. She had high cheek bones and the fairest, softest skin Thranduil had ever touched. Her body was like that of most elves - slender and petite, and fit comfortably in his arms. She wore a modest light blue gown - certainly not one of her more fancy outfits.

Verona and Thranduil had grown up beside one another, and there was not one person who knew him better than she did. If Thranduil ever had to personify perfection, it would be her. Every fond memory of his childhood had had her in it, and he hoped that it would remain that way for the rest of his life.

He often regretted that she was Silvan. As a Sindar Prince, he was obligated to marry a Sindar to keep the bloodline pure. His father, and his father before him, had both married Sindars, and so it was his responsibility to do the same. Verona secretly knew all of this, but she held the fantasy within her heart, that Thranduil would break bonds with ritual and orthodox custom for her.

But Thranduil knew that he wouldn't.

"I told you, I'm fine" Thranduil finally broke the silence.

"I know" Verona smiled and fell back into the armchair. "So what did you do with them? Nlaea said they weren't to be executed"

"We're going to talk to them in a bit. Leilath called first dibs"

"Wow you actually said dibs. I thought you had shunned modern language" Verona suppressed a giggle.

"Shut up" Thranduil muttered. "Anyway, we'll learn more about them soon enough"

"Can I see them?" Verona's cheeks turned pinker and her eyes glittered with some sinister thought or other.

"Absolutely not" Thranduil asserted. Verona huffed.

"Fine. What were they like?"

"Intriguing, to say the least. They spoke in some strange tongue. Even my father did not know of it"

"That's strange, if anything. What else?"

"Their combat style was strange. One fought like a man with the precision of an elf, and the other like an orc, or even a possibly drunk man - yet both are elves."

Verona chuckled at his words.

"I'm serious! Her movements were completely uncoordinated, yet she managed to strike me at least a dozen times! I've never seen a stranger technique than hers"

"Wait a minute... did you just say _hers?_ " Verona eyes Thranduil incredulously.

"Yes, I did. Didn't Nlaea tell you that my assailants were both women? She-elves, in your modern Nandorin" Thranduil finally decided to sit. He chose the chair just opposite to Verona's.

"WHAT?!" Thranduil flinched, thinking that Verona was going to jump out of her chair, grab him by the collar, and begin throwing insults.

Instead she started laughing. Her body couldn't keep itself in one place and she was hysterical. Thranduil raised his eyebrows.

"She-elves?! You were beaten, nearly killed, by SHE-ELVES?!" Her laughter escalated into hysterical shrieking.

 _She really is LEAST attractive while laughing, isn't she?_ Thranduil mused inwardly.

"Oh holy Eru. If I had known they were _she-elves_ I wouldn't have bothered coming up here, Thranduil! You've got to be joking!"

"I'm not. They were incredibly strong. Believe me, I was more surprised than anyone"

In truth, Thranduil had felt absolute anguish. His heart had stopped beating and his mind immediately cleared itself of all coherent thoughts. All that rung in his mind was that he was a weakling - bested by women smaller than him, and of his own kind. If they were she-orcs, if such a thing even existed, then he would not have felt the same. He was sure now, that his father would see him as nothing but a sheer disappointment.

To his surprise, his father hadn't even batted an eye after they were sent to Leilath. He did not once question or reprimand Thranduil, or give him a lecture. His mother probably would have, but Thranduil had expected a very grave consequence. If the news of the prince of the Greenwood falling in battle at the hands of two rogue she-elves managed to spread to other lands, his father's and his own names would fall to ruin, and the entire Sindar race would be ridiculed.

"You should be ashamed of yourself!" Verona chimed with his inner thoughts.

And he was, more than anyone could ever know. Yet he managed to keep a cool head about it. He was the master of stone faced emotion, and Verona had often criticized how unsociable he could be with other people at times. He didn't care much.

"I know" Thranduil sighed and tilted his head back, idly observing the carvings on the ceiling.

Then there was a knock on the door. Thranduil was, admittedly, slightly grateful for the interruption. His thoughts had taken a slightly darker turn from where he and Verona had first started. She always, however, managed to keep the conversation light. He was not actually supposed to be telling Verona anything, but she was capable of keeping a secret or two, and he trusted her completely.

"Enter" Thranduil glanced at the doorway to find a messenger from the King's Guard entered the room.

Verona took that as her cue to leave. She stood, smoothed her dress down and turned to depart. She nodded courteously at the messenger before turning back to Thranduil.

"Nlaea is going to get an earful after lying to me" Thranduil smirked and nodded as she left.

"Prince Thranduil, the king requests your presence in the armoury" The elf bowed in respect.

"Did he say why?" Thranduil asked as they both left the room.

"He's surveying the weapons that the rogues were carrying"

Thranduil simply nodded and waved his hand, dismissing the elf.

* * *

The king had already begun sorting through the two she-elves' weaponry and belongings by the time Thranduil reached the armoury. In one pile he noticed blades and arrows of elven make. In another pile there were some arrows with arrow heads made of some queer white material. They were as hard as the others but had a different versatility.

He picked up one such arrow to observe it closely. He scratched the arrow head and saw that no mark appeared on it. However on his finger there was a white powdery residue which had rubbed off from the arrow head.

Experimentally he brought it up to his nose and sniffed.

"This smells like-"

"Bone. Sandpapered into shape and whetted by the strongest of stones" His father finished his sentence with a bit more detail.

Thranduil replaced the arrow back in the pile and moved onto the next - where there were highly contrasting black arrows. They were smooth and cool unlike the bone arrows which were rough and powdery. Thranduil picked one up and ran his finger around the arrow head.

"Be careful, Thranduil. Those arrows are of Morgul forgery. One cut and your blood will be poisoned"

Thranduil immediately moved his finger away from the tip and held it from the shaft instead. When he observed the shaft closely he found strange grey carvings - grey from age or dust probably. He could not recognize any particular language's script, but was able to fine a name inscribed at one end, next to the fletching. It was written in the classic elven script of Tengwar - and by a fine hand too.

 _Evanna_

It was the same name that the brunette had called the red-head elf back when they were first introduced to the pair. Thranduil was sure that she was the bowman. Or rather, bow-woman.

"Look at these for me, Thranduil" Oropher pointed to the last pile without looking up from the elven blades he was holding

 _Those are the ones the brown-haired elf was fighting with._ Thranduil's face hardened. He could still see some dried blood on the tip of the blades - although Nlaea had cleaned them.

 _My blood._ Was all he could think. And the thought, surprisingly, did not disgust him. It scared him.

It was another reminder - one of very _very_ few he had received - that he was not immortal.

His place in the Greenwood as its prince did not guarantee him immunity from death. In truth, he was not born a prince, and had only obtained the title when his father left the Noldor and settled in the Greenwood. The Silvan elves of the Greenwood had made him their king solely because he was a Sindar elf - who were considered wiser than the Silvan.

Thranduil hated being reminded that he was not _born_ royalty. Nobility and royalty were far from the same thing - and Thranduil despised knowing that he was somehow imperfect. He knew that no matter who you were, or what great feats you had achieved, death was something sure.

 _Something sure in such an unsure world._

Silently he cursed the she-elves who had caused these thoughts to resurface. He turned his attention back to the

Thranduil nearly gaped at the arsenal - for it was only fit to give it such a term. There were two large wrap-around belts - each fitted with an array of pouches and little slits for hanging knives and other materials or weapons. When Thranduil opened the pouches, he found a vast reserve of vials - containing poisons and antidotes no doubt, thin pieces of metal resembling needles, and writing ink.

 _What are the needles for?_ Thranduil mused while fingering the knife slits.

The throwing knives that resided there were of unique craftsmanship - made of the same rough bone that the white arrows were. They were small and double pointed. Each had its own unique inscription.

Thranduil was now incredibly puzzled.

It was common for certain weapons to bear inscriptions - especially swords and bows of sentimental value (such as his own) - but for _these many_ knives? He sorted through a few more, just to make sure that his hunch was correct.

It was.

"Father... What are all these carvings? I mean, why would they spend so much time and energy carving into such mundane and primitive weapons?"

It seemed like a childish and invalid question, but Oropher was intrigued. He held up a pair of the bone knives and observed each one with a careful eye.

"You're right... I wonder... What are all the vials for?" Oropher glanced at the open pouches.

"Poisons and antidotes I suspect. The names are all written in Elvish. Some in the common tongue as well. We can give them to Leilath to analyse later"

"Yes. Good. And those needles?" He pointed at the needles' pouch.

"Another thing I am unsure of..." Thranduil shuffled slightly. He hated being useless, especially in front of his father.

"Well, perhaps our maiden warriors dabble in a little bit of casual sewing" Oropher looked at his son and smiled broadly, showing his teeth. Thranduil couldn't help smiling.

"Oh, and I found ink" Thranduil tore through the humorous air that surrounded them.

"Ink? Like, writing ink?" Oropher held out his hand as Thranduil passed him a small vial of jet black ink. A small label on it read _Ink_ in neat Elvish script.

"They know how to write. Send messages and so forth. They may be spies after all"

"After all?" Thranduil gave him a questioning look.

"I suspected that they might have been. As for the poisons and antidotes - they seem to have so many. Whoever poisoned them must have known that they did not posses the particular antidote for Ondohithui..." Oropher tapped his chin in deep thought.

"Ondohithui! They were poisoned by that? Are you sure?" Thranduil had an incredulous air about him.

"Yes, I'm afraid Leilath confirmed it"

"But how could they survive for so long? And still fight..." Thranduil trailed off. He had blown things up big time.

Not only were the elves who had attacked him female, carrying hoards of weapons and travel gear - they were poisoned by one of the most powerful poisons in existence.

And they had still managed to best him.

It didn't matter now that there were two of them, or that they possessed Morgul arrows and blades, or that they could be spies. Now all that mattered to Thranduil was that they were stronger than him, and they had proved it.

 _No one can know. Absolutely no one._ Thranduil could feel the rage bubbling like a pool of red-hot oil inside him.

He didn't let it reach the surface.

* * *

 **This was a particularly long chapter compared to my earlier ones. I wanted to make the story fast paced and enjoyable to read. This chapter had a lot of elements, and I wanted to make some references to canon material (The part about Oropher and the Noldor etc... is 100% canon).**

 **I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I really liked writing it, although it took around 4 days to write :P**


	6. Interrogation II

**OMG this chapter is going to be awesome for me because I finally get to write the elves and their dynamic with Thranduil.**

* * *

 **INTERROGATION II**

* * *

Verona skirted along the snaky pathways of the palace with a gliding step. Her dress skirts lightly brushed the wooden and stone paths. Her mind was currently occupied with Thranduil's current state. He was clearly rattled, despite his even composure.

She had a knack for being able to tell when he was truly troubled and when he was just putting on a show.

Right now, she could clearly tell he was rattled by the she-elves' attack on him. Verona was impressed by their ability to put him in such a state.

 _I NEED to meet them..._

Verona considered her decision for a moment before turning a corner towards the east barracks.

Listening to a few lone words here and there, she managed to put together an idea of where the elves were being hidden.

The foreign she-elves were being kept hidden away in the innermost chambers of the healer, Lady Leilath. Verona was on good terms with every elf in the kingdom, but Lady Leilath was one who was on bad terms with about every elf in the whole realm other than Thranduil and his mother. It wasn't Verona's fault, just that Leilath was senile and irritable. She had aged unlike most elves - disgracefully.

But nonetheless she had Verona's (and everyone's) respect.

Dodging lone guards and messengers, Verona managed to traverse the path to the healing chambers unseen. If she had been spotted by any of the maids, or noble elves, they wouldn't suspect much of anything.

Knocking on the door, she held her breath for Leilath's coming shouts.

But none came.

 _That's strange... she never leaves the chambers without leaving someone in her stead..._

Looking over her shoulder to make sure she was not being watched, she opened the door just a crack and peered inside.

The floor was stained red in most places, probably the result of an experiment Leilath was conducting. Verona's nose scrunched up when the smell reached her nostrils. The tables looked relatively normal - covered with papers and bottles of some concoction or the other.

Seeing no one around, Verona silently slid through the door.

* * *

After the elves had changed they sat on the bed patiently without stirring. From within the storage room they heard Leilath huff.

"Dammit where'd they put it?!" Leilath hobbled out of the room and searched fervently through drawers and on the tabletops through heaps of parchments and bottles and other knick-knacks.

"Listen, she-elves, Evanna and whatever", the brunette shot her a glare, "I'm popping out for a bit. Need to find something that one of my healers misplaced. Anyway, remain here and touch nothing" Leilath waved her hand to signal her meaning and promptly left the room.

The elves didn't move. They assumed that there was some spell on the door that Leilath had cast to make it inescapable, and they were right. The door could only be opened from the outside after the warding magic had been cast. So they sat on the bed, side-by-side, unmoving.

Until they heard the door open.

A silent message passed between them, and through their eyes they conveyed their intentions to one another. Nimbly they leapt over the bed and towards the door. A slim elf clad in a light blue dress had come in with her back facing the elves.

They saw their chance. And they took it.

* * *

Verona slipped through the door, carefully watching the surroundings for any stray elves that could spot her.

Before she had the chance to close the door, she was grabbed by her waist and thrown back with such incredible force against a nearby bed. Her ears rang from the twanging sound of the metal bedpost, and her vision swirled.

She made out two elves.

 _It's them._ She braced herself for their next move.

One of them had their foot lodged in the door, leaving it open just a crack. Her hair was light brown and she wore an old, tattered elven guard uniform. Her face was bruised and her eyes held a menacing glare. The other one had deep red hair and a soft face. She was currently pinning Verona to the bed with her foot, held against her throat.

"Please don't hurt me!" Verona held the she-elf's foot with both her hands, fighting in vain against the immovable force of her leg pinning her to the bed. "I just came to talk with you!"

The two elves began conversing in some strange tongue that Verona had never come across before. The flow of words sounded elvish, yet no single word was of Nandorin or Sindarin.

 _Could it be some lost language of the elves?_ Verona pondered the thought.

The red head regarded her and to Verona's surprise, smiled and let her foot off Verona's throat. She breathed deeply and stood up, one hand holding the bedpost for support.

"I am Evanna. We are leaving here soon. Do you know where our weapons were taken?"

Verona held the bedpost tighter, her voice shaking slightly. "No... no I'm sorry I don't know anyth-"

Before she could complete her sentence, all three were startled by Leilath, who had just opened the door.

The look on her face changed from surprise to realization to seriousness in a matter of seconds.

"Verona look away!" Leilath held up her staff and spoke a few words of enchantment. Verona shut her eyes tightly and bowed her head low.

A dazzling light filled the room, blinding the elves. They fell to the ground, feeling their energy being sapped by the light. The last image Evanna saw was Leilath's smirk. She heard her words as a murmur.

"Oh dearies, I told you not to try and leave"

* * *

Verona opened her eyes to find the two elves laying on the ground. Out cold.

"Oh Lady Leilath, I didn't mean-"

"Oh shut it Verona. Your prince in shining armour couldn't keep his mouth shut could he?" Leilath smashed her staff into the ground to add emphasis to her words. Verona jumped.

"It was Nlaea who told-"

"Oh of course it was her. Both of you girls need to grow up and get over that decadent prince of yours"

"I do beg your pardon, Lady Leilath, but prince Thranduil is not-"

"Oh don't 'Prince Thranduil' me. I know how you and Nlaea feel about him" Leilath softened her eyes and regarded Verona. "It is unfortunate that a pretty girl like you was born a Silvan, else king Oropher would have no other bride for his son"

Verona stood silent and watched Leilath as she dragged the two elves back to their bed. She would have offered to help, but experience had taught her that Leilath did not like help unless she explicitly asked for it.

"And Nlaea?" She finally spoke, after both elves had been securely chained to the bedposts.

"What about her?" Leilath dusted herself off and began putting away several vials she had acquired from Nlaea during her short departure from her chambers.

"I mean, why is she unsuitable?" Verona tried her best to keep the question casual, but failed miserably. Leilath saw right through her.

"Well she's a warrior. All female members of the guard are forbidden from having children, of course. Although nothing was said about lovers..." Leilath shrugged and inwardly chuckled at Verona's blush.

"Anyway, back to business", she turned and faced Verona. "WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE VALAR AND THE HOLY ERU WERE YOU THINKING?!"

Verona had no reply. She started at the ground, partly in shame and partly in fear. Leilath's rages were definitely something to be afraid of.

"Listen Verona, I've no time to yell at you presently. There are pressing matters to attend to. For now just leave and tell no one of what you've seen. These elves are dangerous and need to be dealt with in the proper manner" Leilath's short spout of rage surprised Verona to no end.

 _How quickly she let the issue slide!_

"What do you mean by proper manner?" Verona turned to Leilath, her hand on the door knob.

"Never mind about that! Just go! And speak to no one about any of this until I have the king's word on what to do next"

Verona nodded and rushed out with all haste.

She headed straight to her chambers and entertained no one the whole day. She was quite shaken by the events that had unfolded.

Never before had she been so recklessly manhandled (or rather - womanhandled). Her body had endured the brunt of the attack, but now her back and neck were sore. She spent almost half an hour covering up the dirt on her neck (left from the red head elf's shoe) with concealer powder.

Verona could not have even nearly imagined what power those two elves had; that had made them able to defeat Thranduil. A single tear escaped each of her eyes at the same time - tears of frustration no doubt. Staring at herself in the mirror she let out a single sob before wiping her face clean with a kerchief.

"Oh Thranduil I'm so sorry I ever laughed. I hope those two get what's coming to them" Her face hardened in the mirror.

 _Hopefully, the 'proper manner' which Lady Leilath referred to is exactly what I thought it was..._ It was a cruel wish, but Verona never joked about Thranduil's well being. She now had some idea of the gravity of the threat those two posed to him, and she wanted him safe from harm no matter the price.

* * *

As soon as Verona departed, Leilath trudged back to the elves and unchained them. She forced a bit of brine down their throats to wake them up.

"Oh get on up then. You've to meet with Oropher and the prince soon" Leilath took their chains and fastened them to one she had attached to her wrist previously.

"Don't you get any ideas" She pointed at the brunette and then at Evanna with a slender finger. "Let's go. You both get a special guard escort along with me" Leilath smiled and led them both to the door.

They both were still quite dazed, and swayed as they walked - after effects of the light spell Leilath had used on them. Leilath opened the door and was met with a large number of guards.

"They're cuffed to me. Oh don't worry now, the chains are enchanted. Can't be undone without the correct key and incantation along with it" The guards shrugged and formed a wall around the three elves as instructed.

The entire procession of about ten elves strode through the halls of the Woodland Realm with a fixed destination in mind: The private interrogation cell. Usually such rooms are situated close to the dungeons, but elves being 'civilised folk' preferred to keep the two a distance apart - to show civility or just grandeur no one knew. Perhaps the screams heard from the interrogation cells proved too much for the prisoners to bear.

The cell was not particularly different from most other rooms. The only difference was that instead of chairs and tables there were chains and cuffs. It was not like any orc dungeon - reeking of pungent smells and fuming with smoke, nor was is wet and humid like most prisons of men. The room was clean and well lit, and even had a window to let air and birdsong in. Elves considered themselves far too refined and elegant to even resort to torture - which was why it surprised the two elves when they finally entered the room.

There were no torture weapons... no knives or hammers or needles or anything of the sort. There were two chairs and two sets of chains linked to the walls and the ground - one could never be too cautious.

On the chairs sat the king and his son. Both with golden hair touched by snow, and stunning blue eyes. Spitting images of one another - aside from the prince's eyebrows, which hadn't gone unobserved by either Evanna or her companion.

The guards forced the elves on their knees as Leilath undid their enchanted bonds with a murmured incantation. They were chained to the ground and walls hastily by the guards, who departed soon after. Leilath lingered in the corner of the room.

"Shall we begin?" Oropher sliced through the thick silence with his deep voice. It did not echo in the small room, but it was still quite loud.

He stood from his chair and approached the kneeling elves.

* * *

"Leilath informed me you are not of any elven houses. Is it true?"

"Yes" The brunette replied.

"What are your names and what is your purpose here?" Oropher cut straight to the question lingering on everyone's minds. Thranduil remained still as a statue in his seat, carefully watching the elves' movements and reactions.

"I am Evanna, she is Azriel. We were travelling"

"Azriel is not a woman's name" Leilath remarked shamelessly from her corner, earning a look from the king. Thranduil remained stoic.

"Is that a problem, old hag?" The brunette, Azriel, spat - quite literally. Her glare struck Leilath harshly.

"Oh no no, just makes a few things about you a little more clear!" Leilath said in a sing-song voice.

"Leilath enough" Oropher held up a hand signalling her to stop herself from pushing further. Leilath's sass was appreciated, but also very tedious to bear with in certain situations - this being one of them.

"You say you were travelling, yet you attacked one of my kin" Oropher motioned behind him to where Thranduil sat, motionless as before.

"I killed a spider" Evanna said, "and when I shot at the bush I didn't know I was attacking an elf..."

"So you mean to say you thought my son was another spider?" Oropher clasped his hands in front of him and raised his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"Yes that's exactly what she thought" Azriel pulled hard against the chains, releasing a link which gave her more leeway. She stood up and leaned towards Oropher - who although taller than her, was much less intimidating at the moment.

Thranduil stood up in a split second, the knife in his hand held against Azriel's throat.

"Watch yourself she-elf. You are alive only by our courtesy" Thranduil and Azriel's eyes met as did fire and ice.

"Your courtesy is not something I asked for, pompous prince" Azriel's gaze levelled with his. Thranduil's face hardened at the memory of their clash in the woods.

Blade against blade, blow upon blow, and he was the bearer of them - most of them anyway...

His knife pressed harder against her throat, drawing a drop of blood, but she did not flinch. In fact, she smiled broadly. Meanwhile, Leilath had sneaked around them and took this moment to pull the chains back, forcing Azriel back onto the ground. Her eyes did not leave Thranduil's for even a second.

Oropher had in the meantime retaken his seat, which meant it was Thranduil's turn to ask questions.

"Where were you headed" He directed his question at Azriel, as she seemed to be the more actively mouthy one in this debate - she was more likely to unintentionally spill a secret.

"Away from here" Evanna answered in her stead. Azriel's eyes were still on Thranduil's, although her smile had faded long since.

"In which direction were you headed" Thranduil rephrased the question without hesitation.

"South" Evanna lied without hesitation. In fact that was the exact direction from which they had come.

"Who poisoned you?" Oropher unexpectedly interrupted. Thranduil mentally smacked himself for forgetting about the poison.

"We don't know" They replied in unison. Oropher nodded and resigned himself to his thoughts.

"You bear Morgul arrows and weapons. Where did you get them?" Thranduil continued.

"Your great grandmother's crypt" Azriel smirked in reply. Evanna's eyes widened but she could not stop the corner of her lips from turning up in amusement. She silenced an audible laugh.

Thranduil's knife edge was now pressed lightly against Azriel's lips. His hands were firmly tangled in her dusty hair, pulling her head upwards.

"I never thought I would ever use the word 'scum' to describe a fellow elf... You had better watch that mouth of yours. Although I'm sure if I did press hard enough", Thranduil increased the pressure on his blade, "I'm sure it would make your smile prettier"

Azriel's smirk faded, but the chill in her gaze remained constant.

"Oh prince, I'm sure my blood is much sweeter than yours was. The bitter blood of a bitter prin-" Her sentence was halted by the crack of the back of Thranduil's hand against her grimy cheek.

Thranduil inspected his hand and then regarded Azriel once more.

"Do not test me, elven wench"

"Oh were you speaking to me?" She turned her face dramatically back to Thranduil. "The _wench_ who brought you within an inch from _your death_?" Thranduil's eyes narrowed and his jaw hardened. He turned his back to Azriel, trying with all his might to maintain his composure.

 _Even interrogating an orc is better than this..._

"Oh pretty prince you should have some more respect for the warrior who defeated you. Didn't your mother teach you any manners? Or worse yet, your father the king" At this moment Thranduil was barely registering anything she said. He was too focused on trying to stay calm.

"Didn't he ever teach you to take defeat gracefully? Well? Did he? Or was he too busy playing around with the pretty raven haired elf in the blue-" Thranduil's eyes widened in realization of who she was referring to. His grip on his knife tightened till his knuckles turned white and he struck.

His knife just barely missed her neck, instead striking the wall Thranduil had just pushed her up against. Her eyes widened in surprise. She had never expected to rile him up so easily.

 _It's that girl. They must be together..._

"If you ever mention her again, I will slice you limb from limb. Mark these words, elven ilk" Azriel was still speechless, too startled to even nod.

His face was so close to hers, she could make out the details of his irises. Now they did not look as pale as they did in the woods. She saw hundreds of impossible shades of stunning blues and greys and greens intertwined like magical vines. They were mesmerizing.

"Now tell me where you obtained your weapons" She felt his icy breath on her face, his voice coated with that same frosted malice.

 _Now he is getting interesting..._

Thranduil showed no sign of budging from his current position. He had Azriel pinned against the wall, his face a mere breath from hers. They locked eyes for what seemed an eternity until she finally looked away.

"We forged them ourselves" She said softly.

It wasn't a submissive reply, simply soft. Since he was so close to her, she felt she didn't need to say it very loud for him to hear - but Thranduil being Thranduil obviously took it as a sign of victory over her.

He stood up, releasing Azriel from her vulnerable position - both physical and mental.

"Impossible. Elven hands cannot possibly forge a Morgul shaft. It's unheard of!" Thranduil huffed. Oropher silently rubbed his hands together in consideration.

"It is possible, and we have done it. Whether you believe it or not isn't our problem" Azriel turned to Oropher and watched him carefully. His eyes were on his hands - clasped in his lap.

"What about those needles. And the throwing knives' inscriptions"

"The needles are used as navigational markers. The inscriptions are written in the language of the orcs" Evanna finally re-entered the conversation.

"Do you mean to say that you are conspiring with orcs?" Thranduil's expression could not be described with merely the word disgust. He felt like vomiting at the thought of it.

 _An alliance of elves and orcs?! Simply not possible..._

"No", was Azriel's chopped reply.

"Then what should we make of this? Orcish inscriptions on blades that are so clearly of elvish make..." Thranduil had begun pacing back and forth slowly.

"The inscriptions have no significance, prince, I assure you" Azriel's reply was surprisingly polite. When Thranduil turned to be sure she was the one who had replied, he was met with a sarcastic smile.

 _She is definitely hiding something..._ Both Leilath and Thranduil had the same thought almost immediately.

"And what of the weapons forged of bone? Their origins?"

"Also forged by us" Evanna had decided to take over the conversation from Azriel, who was clearly still fighting the last remnants of the poison in her system.

"And the inscriptions?"

"Written in dwarvish runes"

"Now you are conspiring with dwarves!" _Oh holy Eru what do I make of this... Orcs and dwarves and blades and bones._

"We do not conspire with them for Eru's sake!" Evanna pleaded. "Is it a sin to appreciate the language of another race? Of course to you so called 'noble elves' it might be. But to us it is not! Our weapons are stronger than any other, because we find many smithies in which to make them. You would do best to learn from our ways" Evanna orated.

Thranduil, enraged, started towards her. His mouth opened to retort but before he could get a word out his father stood up.

"We would no sooner break bread with orcs and dwarves than we would open our lands to rogues like yourselves. _You_ should know your place in these halls, _my halls_ " Oropher spoke with such bellowing prowess that even Thranduil's eyes widened.

"Leilath send for the guards and order them to take these unholy wretches to the deepest, darkest pit of the dungeons. The cells right next to the wine cellar should do just fine"

Leilath knocked on the door three times in quick succession, and immediately it opened. The same escort guards trailed in and guided the two elves - now prisoners - to the dungeons.

One corner of Oropher's mouth turned up slightly as they left the interrogation cell. Thranduil came up next to his father and watched the door close.

"If I may, what was that outburst about, father? It seems quite unlike you to be so... forward" Thranduil asked without turning to look at his father in the eye.

"Oh don't worry Thranduil. It is all a ploy to intimidate them. Might I say you were quite good with the interrogation, especially with that brown haired one. What was her name?"

"Azriel"

"Ah yes, yes, the one with the man's name" Oropher chuckled softly.

* * *

The king departed the cell, heading for his chambers for the night.

Thranduil took a slight detour on his way to his chambers, stopping for a moment at Verona's to ask her what she had gotten herself into. When Azriel had mentioned her - the 'pretty raven haired elf in the blue dress' - Thranduil was both enraged and afraid.

Enraged that she would dare mention her _at all_ in _any context,_ and afraid because of how she had come to know about her. The only way Azriel could know about Verona was if they had met - which meant that either Azriel had somehow escaped (which was incredibly improbable considering the level of security in the Woodland Realm) _or_ that Verona, being the fool she sometimes was, had gone to the healing chambers in search of the two elves.

Either way, Thranduil needed answers and confirmation that she was not hurt.

When he reached her chambers he found her sound asleep on her bed, still in her dress and not a single sheet of cloth covering her shivering body.

He lifted her up and pulled the bed sheets over her, smoothing her hair and brushing stray strands off her face. On her neck he noticed splotches of pale brown powder - no doubt that fancy contraption made by the women of Lake Town used to cover up blemishes and such things. Although Thranduil couldn't possibly imagine what an elf as beautiful as Verona would ever need it for.

 _Another question for the morning I guess... Sweet dreams, Verona._

He touched his lips against her forehead for a split second before leaving her chambers for his own.

* * *

The dungeons of the Woodland Realm were not like most dungeons that Evanna and Azriel had encountered in their lifetime. It was quite comfortable for a dungeon, and situated near the wine cellars - which emanated a pleasant and intoxicating odour most of the time. The cells were dry and free from dust and dirt - which couldn't be said about the two elves that were put there.

Both had separate cells - opposite to one another. The darkness ruled this area of the kingdom, and there was not a smidge of dusk's light to be seen.

Content with simply being alive for the time being, both elves lay down to rest on the cool, smooth dungeon floor.

 _So comfortable compared to what we've had to endure in the past..._

Both elves fell asleep quite quickly considering the physical damage their bodies had endured. The next day promised another day of life - which was as good as they could have hoped for... considering who they were running from.

* * *

 **I'm finally done with this chapter! Yay!**

 **It took A REALLY LONG TIME TO FINISH THIS! You guys are lucky that it's prewritten - else you'd never get an update for months. I hope I'll be a more conscientious writer this month. I'll finish up chapters 1-10 real soon - and then the real shit starts.**

 **\- Jubz**


	7. Family Reunion

**SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE!**

 **ALSO - Chapter 6 has been updated with a slight edit in the interrogation part. I added a question from Oropher (I'm so daft I completely forgot about how the girls were poisoned). GAH me and my annoying plot-holes :')**

* * *

 **FAMILY REUNION**

* * *

When the elves woke it was before dawn. Their mental clocks were preset to a dusk-dawn schedule, but it was easily alterable. The guard shift was changing at the precise moment that Azriel peered through the bars of her cell and out into the hall. Some of the guards were yawning and stretching their tired limbs, while others were leaning against the walls. The new shift was arriving currently.

Since this part of the castle was cut off from any natural light - the main source of light was an immense amount of candles suspended from lavish chandeliers. There were wall torches, as well as small candles in each prison cell. Those candles were far too small to be used to escape, as Azriel had discovered the night before.

The time just before the entire palace was awake and bustling was the perfect time for the guards to relax. They were generally on high alert throughout the night, and only relaxed themselves in the wee hours of the morning.

Azriel scoffed at their incompetence. When there is a real threat running free about these woods, it isn't wise to remain lax - but these elves were oblivious to that threat, which was good for them in a way...

Azriel shuddered slightly.

In the opposite cell she discerned Eva doing stretches. She considered doing the same. The guards posted to keep an eye on them were quite startled by prisoners actually bothering about their physical fitness. Most occupants were content with rotting away.

There wasn't much else to do other than yoga and meditation - which was precisely what both the she-elves did for the greater part of their morning. Usually midday was their designated time for combat training - when the sun was high and the hours were long. That was clearly not an option in this situation, so they were content with eavesdropping on the guards' conversations - not that there was much of that. Most of the guards preferred staying silent while on duty.

Occasionally a maid or two would make a trip down to the wine cellars and return with a barrel of a favourite exotic wine of the king or the prince or some other noble elf. Azriel paid close attention to the maids whenever they passed her cell. She didn't stare. but simply observed with all her senses. Most of them were dark haired and modestly dressed.

Most of the day passed uneventfully, which was no surprise to the two elves. Hatching an escape plan was impossible from these cells, but at least it kept them safe from having to be outside in the wood, which was a lot more dangerous since they were being chased.

It was only in the afternoon that there was a real hullabaloo to be concerned about.

Evanna was practising her knife throwing - with an imaginary knife obviously - when an elf dressed in a decorated gown passed her cell door. She immediately stopped mid-knife-throw and ran straight to the bars. She observed the she-elf as she stopped to chatter with one of the guards.

Her hair was red, much like her own - but the texture was different. While her hair was stringy and wavy at the ends, this woman's was thin and straight. But the colour was the same.

Her gown was a gaudy dark green with a white fur bodice. The whole dress shimmered in the candlelight. Evanna spotted a high collar - indicating a person holding a high position or rank in most elven houses.

 _A royal lady? A princess or queen?_

When she turned Evanna got a glimpse of her face. She had pale lips and a worn face, but her expression and air demanded respect. Her eye - the one which Evanna caught a glimpse of - was completely clouded with a blueish white colour.

 _She is blind?_ Evanna pondered the thought of a blind elf. It didn't please her.

The she-elf disappeared into the wine cellar below, and emerged minutes later with a valuable looking silver chalice - which appeared more to be a decorative item than a vessel from which to drink.

Despite using a hand to lift up her dress skirts, she miss-stepped and tripped, falling to the floor in an ungraceful way that was almost poetic - at least for an elf of her stature.

The silver chalice rolled across the floor, through the bars, and into Evanna's own prison cell. This surprised her and she quickly bent to pick up the cup.

The red-head elf stood up hastily and brushed the dust from the floor off her dress.

"Oh how tedious" she mumbled. She glanced around and saw the chalice missing from her person. The guards flanked Evanna's prison cell, and one began to bark an order.

Evanna already had the chalice in hand, and presented it through the bars to the elf. Just before she took it their eyes met.

Evanna now gasped. The elf's left eye - the one she hadn't seen, was green. Jade green.

* * *

Vestele felt incredibly embarrassed for being so clumsy. It was especially ungraceful in this context - in front of guards. She gathered her bearings and got up quickly, hoping to let the past be the past. Looking around she saw the cup had disappeared. It emerged clasped in a fair hand, through a set of prison bars.

Vestele reached for the goblet, glancing at the one who held it.

She frowned slightly when the she-elf in the cell became visible. Her hair was wine-red, as hers. Her eyes were pale jade, as her single left eye was.

Vestele had dreamed of this moment for decades - the moment she would be reunited with her lost daughter. But now, it was a century past, and she had long since given up hope. She feared believing this elf was her very own Evanna would rekindle that flame of hope, and disappointment at discovering the truth - that she was just a nameless rogue - would snuff out the embers. But the possibility...

"...Evanna?" She whispered to the imprisoned elf.

Her expression turned from surprise to confusion to realization.

"...Yes"

And tears flooded both their eyes.

* * *

Vestele had not a coherent thought in her head as she left the dungeon. The long lost mother and daughter had exchanged some words in Sindarin before she had rushed off to find Oropher. She was so excited and anxious, she couldn't even discern left from right.

"Oi! You there!" She stopped a passing elf. "Find the prince, or the king. Anyone who has authority to set people free from the dungeons. Quickly!" The elf rushed off.

Vestele took a few more twists and turns, careful to avoid any elves for fear of what her excitement might reveal - or that she may say what was on her mind.

 _Oh at long last my daughter! Oh my daughter! Returned to my loving arms! Oh holy Valar, holy Eru, let all other wishes turn to ash! All other prayers fleet to air! My wish has been fulfilled, and my prayers answered!_

Vestele headed for the throne room, hoping to catch Oropher there, but instead found Themra tending to the thrones wreathes. As the seasons changed so did the appearance of the woodland realm, and in the springtime the wreathes were changed to spring flowers and bright leaves.

"Themra! News beyond comprehension!" Vestele hastily climbed up to the throne dais.

"What? What is it?" Themra set aside the flowers she was twining into the throne to listen to Vestele.

"It's my daughter Themra! My Evanna! She's come home!"

"Good and just Valar, can it be true? Is she here?" Themra held Vestele's arms as both their eyes bubbled with excitement and relief.

"Yes. In the dungeons. I'm not sure how she came to be there, but it's her. There is no other elf in the whole of Middle Earth who possesses those eyes and that hair and that face and I'll be damned if anyone says she's anyone but my Evanna!" Vestele was in a fanatic state, but it was to be expected. A hundred years of waiting, and the Valar has finally rewarded her patience.

"I must see her. She'll be set free, by the queen's command. Worry no longer Vestele. Your daughter is home"

* * *

Oropher was aimlessly strolling along the edge of his balcony. The view from there was a marvellous one, but the rains had come and turned the Greenwood into a slosh of swamp land. Some areas near the north remained untouched, but the elves rarely went farther up in that direction, for it came too close to the Lake Town - a town of men.

Startling news reached him from all sides almost immediately after he left his chambers. Every guard was approaching him with news.

"Oh my king it is a menace!"

"She rebels!"

"I fear her health!"

Everything was said, but Oropher understood nothing of the babbling.

"Will ONE of you explain what in the name of the Valar is going on?!" Oropher's booming voice silenced all the ruckus.

"It's the queen, mi'lord" Nlaea spoke. "She's trying to set the prisoners free, the she-elves..."

"By the Valar, for what good and earthly reason?!" Oropher was already rushing, taking steps two at a time, heading straight to the dungeons. The other elves, noble and common, crowded around and made way as Oropher approached.

"She does this on Lady Vestele's command" Nlaea huffed as she kept up pace with Oropher, his strides being nearly twice as large as her own.

When Oropher reached the lower cell area, he was met with chaos. Guards surrounded one of the cells, Themra and Vestele were barking orders at them, but they refused to budge.

"Themra, what is the meaning of this?" The sound of Oropher's voice silenced all.

"Oh Oropher you must see reason! These 'rogues' aren't rogues at all! They are our kin!"

"And how did you come to such a conclusion" Oropher tried to keep both scepticism _and_ sarcasm out of his voice.

"By my own judgement, King" Vestele bowed her head and proceeded to explain. "The elf you've imprisoned here, behind these bars, is my own daughter. I suspect the other one is Nithroel's dearest Lianna"

"Your daughter? Was she not killed many years ago, Lady Vestele?"

"We never found a body! And it cannot possibly be a coincidence that she has the same name as my Evanna?"

Oropher could not deny this, for he had heard the pale brown haired elf call the red-head by the same name. The resemblance was also remarkably similar between Vestele and Evanna. Could it possibly be, after more than a century, that those two young elves had returned home?

Oropher grabbed his wife's arm and pulled her to the side, out of Vestele's earshot.

"These same elves attacked our son! They bore foreign weapons as well!" He hissed, clearly agitated.

"I know that better than anyone, Oropher! But this will benefit us all. Vestele and Nithroel will have their daughters _and_ we can freely investigate them! They will be trapped here, with no way of escaping!" Themra whispered, enthusiastic about her plan.

Oropher was intrigued and clearly impressed with his wife's steadfastness and ingenuity. Her plan seemed fool-proof, and would give him the freedom to investigate these elves under close watch.

He nodded, in agreement with Themra's plan. Vestele approached them.

"Well?"

"Leilath will confirm this conspiracy. All three of us will preside. I understand that Nithroel is out at the Lake Town discussing matters of business with the men?"

"Yes" Vestele moved back to allow more room for the departing guards, who had received a hand signal from Oropher to do so.

"Fine. We shall perform the test with Evanna, and presume that the other one is indeed Nithroel's child if the test is conclusive"

"What test do you have in mind, Oropher?"

"A blood compatibility. Only possible between parent and offspring. A simple and fool-proof test. I shall call Leilath here to conduct it"

"Agreed" Both Vestele and Themra nodded.

It was almost time for the elves to be set free.

* * *

"Do not tarry! We must prepare the celebrations in all haste!" Themra's voice boomed through the kitchens and servants' dorms.

Almost every single elf was put to work on either preparation of food, drinks, decorations, music, and any number of things Themra could think of.

At this time, Thranduil was tottering about the halls aimlessly, as he often did in times of contemplation. His mind was currently set on finding out if Verona was fine, but as he had heard from Nlaea earlier, she had left for some errands in the Greenwood. Probably from Leilath or some noble elf-maid who wanted flowers for their hair.

 _How disrespectful to a woman like her. Demeaning her like a servant..._

Thranduil scoffed and paced up and down the hall. Distant yelling shook him from his state of, well, even he didn't know exactly what he was doing. Such is the mind of a volatile prince.

He caught sight of a hurrying servant elf.

"Oi! You there!" The elf stopped, but looked impatiently at Thranduil, despite him being the prince. Something was surely up. "What's all the commotion about?"

"Queen Themra's ordered a huge celebration. The Lady Vestele's and the Lady Nithroel's daughters have returned. Prince Thranduil, please forgive me but I'm in a bit of a hurry..." The elf bowed and dashed off.

Thranduil was quite puzzled now.

 _Lady Vestele, and Nithroel... I know them... The nobles in charge of exporting to Lake Town, of course. They had daughters?_

Thranduil tried to search for some vague memory from his childhood. His father had made him mingle with the noble elves since a young age, so he knew most of the families quite well.

 _Vestele and Nithroel... Oh lord yes, I remember! That was so long ago!_

Thranduil saw distant images in his mind, a younger Lady Vestele and Lady Nithroel, with their respective daughters. Vestele and her daughter were spitting images of each other, red hair with green eyes and a thin, delicate face. Nithroel was quite different from her daughter, but Thranduil could remember very few details about her. He spent little time with Nithroel in general. This was mostly because Nithroel's husband had committed treason and was banished. Although Thranduil never learned the reason for it.

Suddenly a thought dawned on him.

Red hair.

Green eyes.

Delicate, thin face? Well, maybe not delicate, but thin was as definite as Thranduil's observation went.

 _It can't possibly be... those elves... my own kin..._

Before anything else happened, he had to confirm with his father about his theory. Trotting along the snaky pathways of the woodland realm, he was trying his best to look composed.

He succeeded.

* * *

"Father! Father, where are you? Father!" Thranduil was calling out without a care for the startled servants scattered about the throne room.

Dozens of streamers and drapes were being pinned up on the high ceiling. The ground glittered with shimmering threads woven into the carpets. The smell of delicious, mouth watering food filled the palace. The festivities were being set into motion. Elf-maids ran around, frantic about their dresses and hair and makeup and such. Elves carried trays back and forth, carrying numerous dishes and platters for the feast.

Thranduil noticed all of it, and was annoyed.

"Where the hell is my father! The king, where is he?" He asked a passing elf-maid, who pointed to the general direction of Leilath's healing chambers after recovering from Thranduil's sudden presence in front of her.

"I saw him going-" Before she could finish, Thranduil was off.

When he reached the healing chambers, he saw his father just at the door talking to Leilath, who was presumably still inside. Thranduil could tell it was Leilath because of her booming and extremely irritated voice.

"Oh bugger! It's all true then?"

"If the test is worth anything, then yes" Oropher had an incomprehensible expression on his face. It was annoyed, apprehensive, and excited. Or some strange mixture of all.

"Father! What's going on!?" Thranduil hurried to his father's side, seeing Leilath standing hidden behind the doorway, as he suspected.

"Ah Thranduil, just the person I needed to see. It seems we have a rather sticky situation on our hands..." Oropher's expression now changed to amusement, but Thranduil couldn't fathom the reason for it.

"Those rogues, they're Lady Vestele's and Lady Nithroel's daughters aren't they?" Thranduil cut straight to the point, surprising even Leilath for a moment.

"Well we can't be certain about the brown-haired girl until Nithroel gets back from Lake Town, but the red-head is confirmed" Leilath explained her findings of the blood test. "I suspect the brown-haired girl isn't Nithroel's though. Nithroel's child had distinctly blonde hair, like her father"

"Well you never know, she may have dyed it" Oropher chuckled.

Thranduil ignored his father's attempt at humour and directed his question at Leilath. "So what happens now?"

"Well I wouldn't know. I'm just the healer after all" Leilath chuckled this time.

"Seriously! Father! What are we going to do!?" Thranduil was getting more agitated by the minute.

"I'm afraid there is nothing we can do. Vestele and Nithroel are in high positions of power. I can't deny them this. They also have Themra's support."

"What does that have to do with anything? They attacked me! Does that not count for treason?" Thranduil gave his father a pointed look.

"I'm afraid this is an exception. We can't afford to be seen as condemners to our own kin"

Oropher put a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder.

"Get some rest, find Verona. Get ready. After all, there is a party tonight. And it's going to be grand" Oropher half smiled and Thranduil did the same.

 _What a turn of events. Has fate fashioned this design? Of all the things they could throw our way, this is possibly the worst._

* * *

Themra had finished dishing out just about all the orders she could think of. At the moment her concern was getting the girls some dresses. Since they were the guests of honour, it was only right to give them the grandest and most elegant gowns of the evening, however the seamstresses were currently swamped with new requests - particularly for alterations and modifications to their current stock.

There was no time to get new dresses made, but Themra knew of a particular set of gowns in the seamstresses' chambers which would suit the occasion appropriately. The only trouble was getting in there. It was far too crowded for her. Although they would all make quite a spectacle for making way for the queen's request...

In the end she decided to give the task to a trusted deputy.

 _Nlaea seems like a dependable one..._

She sent a message at once with specific instructions to Nlaea.

 _How odd she will think this request is! Such is life sometimes I suppose._ Themra chuckled.

 _Now, to get the girls ready..._

* * *

 **Hope y'all don't hate me for the late update!**


	8. Deepening Mysteries

**DEEPENING MYSTERIES**

* * *

Evanna stood behind her mother - it was still quite strange to call her that, considering how long they'd currently known each other (about twenty minutes) - while she rummaged around in a cabinet. They were currently inside a spacious room with plenty of cupboards and drawers lining the walls. Azriel stood some paces behind, trying hard to act like she wasn't there.

They had learned that this was one of the many storage rooms which Vestele kept stocked with imported and exported goods from the surrounding lands.

"Ah finally, I've found it!" Vestele produced two cube-like things from the cabinet. "One for each of you. I'm not sure what scent you like, but these are mine and Nithroel's favourites, so I'm sure it will suit you... both of you" She looked back at Azriel, who was staring awkwardly at the ground at the mention of her alleged mother's name.

Evanna took the pink soap from Vestele and handed the purple one to Azriel.

"Now I'll take you to Themra... - and she'll set you up in the baths... - and I'll pick up your dresses" She said distractedly as she closed up the cabinet and put things back in order.

"Let's be off then!" She turned to the girls and smiled broadly. They smiles back, but not nearly so expressively.

Purposely lagging behind Vestele as they walked, the elves conversed about their current situation. They spoke in that same unknown elvish tongue which both Thranduil and Oropher failed to recognize.

" _What do we do now!"_ Azriel was agitated.

" _I don't know! This woman, she is my mother... I'm sure of it"_ Evanna stared at Vestele for a moment.

" _Oh she can't possibly be! I think we should just follow these woodland elves' orders for now until we can find a way to escape. Then we can-"_

" _Wait! We don't have to!"_ Evanna suddenly looked at Azriel with an excited expression. She had a brilliant idea.

" _What will we do then?"_

" _These elves are of a formidable number. And well protected by these woods. We took a great bargain with our lives when we entered it - you know that as well as I"_

" _What's your point?"_

" _We can_ use _them, this whole realm - to protect us. I doubt that Maro would suspect we would take shelter with other elves. Is it not best to do something unexpected to get him off our trail? Doubtlessly he has already sacked Lake Town looking for us, and-"_

" _-Considering him knowing our ties with the dwarves of the Iron Hills, he must be at Erebor by now! Or even further north! Evanna you're a genius! He would never suspect we were harbouring with elves, especially those of the woodland realm, who scarce leave this land. But I don't like this place Evanna. We've become too conspicuous. And that white haired elf, the one we attacked, he doesn't like us either. I suspect his raven-haired girlfriend - whom we also attacked - doesn't either..."_

" _You're right. There's no way to lay low. How tedious"_ Evanna sighed audibly, earning an over-shoulder look from Vestele, which immediately silenced both her and Azriel.

After a short while they came upon Themra, who was in the main hall giving tweaks to the decorations here and there to suit her liking.

"Themra I believe it's time! I'll go straight ahead to grab the dresses"

"Oh no need. I sent a lackey. She'll deliver them to the baths when they're both done"

"Some alterations?"

"No. She has to get the jewels also"

"Oh I completely forgot about those! Nithroel has a gorgeous hair piece that I simply must lend to you!" She turned to Azriel, who was slightly taken aback.

"Oh by the name of the Valar, you both look filthy. Let's get you cleaned up then shall we?" Themra took one of Evanna's and Azriel's hands in her own and led them straight to the baths.

* * *

The baths were indeed a grand spectacle for the two elves, who had only seen rivers and ponds during their short elf life (which was considerably long compared to a human man's life). The ceilings were high to accommodate for the steam, and were carved with intricate detailed patterns and geometric designs. The floor was white marble and had little wooden rungs set in intervals - probably for hanging towels and such.

Deeper in the baths were dozens of cupboards and closets in which robes were kept. On the other side of a natural stony wall was the designated bathing area for the males. Evanna and Azriel were indeed surprised by even this - for where they had been for over a hundred years, no one cared what your genitals looked like so long as you weren't old and wrinkly - which elves rarely were.

"These baths are supplied with heated spring water from the northern half of the woodland realm. I'm sure you'll find it to be quite a pleasurable experience."

Evanna and Azriel looked at each other and then at Themra.

"Is anyone else going to be coming in?" Azriel avoided eye contact sheepishly.

"Oh dear there's no need to be shy! But I can take you to the closed baths if you'd like"

"Could we get some help with these strange clothes? I've no idea how to get out of them" Evanna asked politely. Azriel's eyes widened and gave Evanna a questioning and grave look.

Evanna whispered in reply: _"Relax. They won't see you"_

"Of course, of course!" Themra stifled a giggle, unaware of the exchange of words. "No problem at all"

* * *

The closed baths had a single spring and a large north facing stained glass window which depicted a beautiful white-haired elf-maid singing to the moon.

"A elf named Nlaea will be bringing your dresses and jewels. You can ask her to help you put them on if you'd like. Whatever pleases you."

"Will we change here? In the baths I mean. Won't our clothes get wet from the steam?"

"Oh no! You'll be changing in one of the dressing rooms. After you finish bathing just slip into a simple robe. There are plenty in the cupboards" Themra pointed to a corner in the room with two closets lining the adjacent walls.

"Right. Thank you. Where is the room we'll be going to?"

"Nlaea will guide you there. Don't worry! Vestele will meet you at the room and help you with whatever you need"

"Thank you. These clothes..." Evanna turned and pointed at the complicated lace knot which held the leather breast-piece in place. It wasn't exactly a bodice, considering the fact this was a soldier's uniform.

"Ah yes. Of course" Themra got to work on undoing the ties.

Evanna pulled her hair out of the way as Themra undid the buttons of the suede bodice. Pulling the two sides apart, she revealed Evanna's bruised back. It had both recent and aged scars dotting it at irregular intervals. strange shapes and harsh lines stained the fair canvas that was her petite body.

"Oh my. We must have Leilath exorcise these marks as soon as possible" Themra quipped to herself.

"No need for that" Evanna turned around and smiled a small, painful looking smile.

They seemed like painful memories, but she was genuinely glad for the scars. It showed her she wasn't invincible. Those scars made her more humble, but Azriel couldn't say the same for herself. Her scars were of an altogether different and sinister nature, one she preferred to keep to herself.

Azriel knew all of this, but made no move to reprimand Themra's remark for fear it would break their established trust.

"Well... then..."

"Shall we do mine then?" Azriel drove the point of conversation off Evanna, and she received a grateful look for it.

"Ah, yes"

Azriel stood with her back towards Themra and pulled her matted, stained hair out of the way. Evanna was busy removing the rest of the uniform.

When Themra reached the last knot, Azriel clamped her hand around the two parts of the bodice, indicating that she would finish the rest. Themra gave a wordless acknowledgement and left moments later. As soon as she closed the door behind her Azriel let out a relieved sigh. She split apart the bodice, automatically undoing the last knot.

Evanna was already in the bath as Azriel struggled to get out of the tight fitting pants.

"My lord, Aza, this water is profound!" Evanna sunk into the water, completely submerging her head. The water became stained with brown quite quickly. All the grime was dissolving. Evanna didn't even need to scrub.

"Oh shit. I forgot the soap. I think I left it on the table right outside the closed baths"

Azriel was already naked, but she didn't seem to mind the request. It was right beside the door after all. She hastily tied up her hair with a lace from the discarded uniform and headed for the door.

Just as she was about to turn the knob, the door opened. Luckily, the steam had already begun to rise, slightly obscuring Azriel's exposed body from view.

"Oh I'm sorry I didn't-" It was Themra. She'd returned with Evanna's soap, coincidentally.

She'd been cut short by Azriel. Not her words, her body. When she thought she'd be encountering even more brutal scars when she was undoing Azriel's bodice, she was right, but she had not expected what she saw.

"Tell no one" Azriel hissed.

She quickly grabbed the soap and rushed back to the bath without another word. Themra closed the door with care and heeded the girl's request.

 _I don't think anyone would want me to tell them in the first place, my dear._ Her expression turned grave as she left the baths. She didn't want to know the reasons for their scarred bodies, but that knowledge would serve to reconstruct the incomplete story of their disappearance over a century ago.

* * *

"Here's the soap" Azriel tossed the soap into the bath. It splashed, and almost immediately the bathwater turned the same shade of pink as the soap, and the entire room became saturated with the smell of white cotton and lilies.

"My god! It's like magic!" Evanna splashed about excitedly, like a child enchanted by rain.

Bubbles which rose from the water popped when they reached the ceiling, raining pink mist.

"Try yours Aza!"

Azriel rolled her eyes and got into the bath along with her soap. When she put it in, the bathwater became marbled with pink and purple hues. The steam changed colour constantly.

"Amazing" Azriel mumbled, awed with the magical properties of the soaps. "Who knew things like this even existed..."

"Was the soap where I said it'd be?"

"I don't know. The queen came back with it. Evanna, she saw me... all of me..." Azriel untied her hair and sunk into the water until only her eyes were above it.

The water started to pull the colour out of her hair. The pink and purple were soon joined with a pale shade of brown ink. Soon enough the colour saturated back to pink-purple. Azriel's hair was now a fair, blonde colour. With the coloured steam she looked like a faery from an enchanting children's tale.

"It doesn't matter. Don't worry. I'll sort it out somehow..."

Both the elves remained silent for the rest of the duration of their bath. All the grime and dirt had been removed from their skin by the enchanted waters. They smelled of lilies and jasmine and rose water. Sweet and subtle.

Their eyes had brightened considerably, now that their Athelas healing was complete and their bodies had been rejuvenated by the magical bath. Evanna's eyes sparkled like jade gems and Azriel's reflected the light like coloured diamonds.

The peaceful silence was disturbed by a knock on the door.

Azriel quite literally jumped out of the bath and ran to the corner of the room where the closets were. She pulled out the first robe she saw and with much difficulty put it on.

"You may enter" Evanna rose from the bath like an elegant peacock and parted her long hair into two, using them to cover the major part of her chest.

"I am here to escort you to the dressing room, m'lady" The elf curtsied, but neither Evanna nor Azriel noticed.

"Ah yes, Nlaea is it? I'll just put on a robe and we'll join you"

* * *

The dressing room was a cramped one. It was meant for only a single person, most probably. There was a screen and a torso mannequin, as well and plenty of chairs and hangers laying about.

Evanna's and Azriel's two dresses hung from the screen. The jewels were placed neatly on a table. There were at least half a dozen necklaces and earrings to choose from. But neither of them had any piercings, which was quite a downer.

"Help me with my dress, Nlaea. I'll help her once we are done"

Nlaea followed Evanna behind the screen and took the golden dress with her. She emerged minutes later.

"Well? How is it?" Evanna turned around several times to give Azriel a good look at the dress.

It had full sleeves and a golden netting all over the bodice. The fabric was brocade, and glittered when Evanna made even the slightest movement. Pretty sewed on peach flowers covered the high collar down till the bust line. The dress skirt had a flower pattern painted on with bronze.

"Too many flowers" They both laughed heartily, not afraid of being seen with a smile on their faces.

Nlaea on the other hand was repulsed.

After all, these were the same rogues who'd attacked the prince of the Greenwood, and somehow they'd conned their way into this situation. Using Vestele's weakness, only the Valar knows how they found out about that in the first place.

They seemed so carefree and different from before, when Thranduil caught them in the shoulder with his knives and during the interrogation after that. They looked more like elves than they did before. Elegant almost, save for the shameless laughter.  
She noticed that the brown haired elf's hair was no longer brown.

"Wasn't your hair brown?" Nlaea interrupted Azriel's critiquing of Evanna's dress.

"It was" Azriel saw fit to give no more information than that.

"And it's blonde now..."

"So it is" Azriel looked at her with half lidded eyes and a raised eyebrow, so obviously mocking her.

"Well... if there's nothing else, I'll take my leave" Nlaea barely bowed before rushing out of the room.

There was something else that had disturbed her greatly. On the lower back of the red-haired elf, Evanna probably, she had seen - in addition to remnants of scars and other wounds - a skin brand, burnt in with a red hot rod no doubt. What bothered Nlaea was not the presence of the brand, but its shape.

It was a combination of runes, letters, and tengwar from several dialects of dwarvish, orcish, elvish, and the common tongue. The words wound and twisted together in the shape of a circle inscribed with a serpent's head which seemed to move when Nlaea looked at it for too long. She identified some of the words written in elvish.

 _Fearless. Bringers of Death._

* * *

A few moments after she left, both elves broke out in fits of laughter.

"All right, all right, let's get your dress on"

Evanna took the dress off the hanger and disappeared behind the screen. Azriel followed.

After the corset and petticoat had been fitted, they discovered a slight problem. It was completely strapless.

"Um... maybe we should switch dresses"

"Nonsense Aza! You look like a queen in this! Choose your jewels, I'll find something to cover you with, don't worry" Evanna gave her a reassuring smile before quietly leaving the room.

It was going to be tough to navigate, but she had to try.

Meanwhile Azriel, with a sheet of cloth over her shoulders, was picking through various pieces of jewellery. There were all kinds of precious stones and metals cut by the finest craftsmen, but Azriel could fine none that she liked. They were all too opulent and gaudy for her taste. She picked out a pearl string with a large gold pearl in the centre, thinking Evanna would like it.

A while later there was a knock on the door. Azriel jumped and ran behind the screen.

"Eva is it you?" she peeped out on one side to get a clear view of the door.

"It's her mother" Vestele entered. "Where has Evanna gone to? Surely she'll get lost!"

Azriel was still peeping timidly from behind the screen.

"She went to get a long sleeved shirt to wear under my dress. It seems to be missing sleeves..."

"Oh dear, no! It's meant to be that way. It's a younger dress. Only all the garbled old elf women wear full sleeved robes you know" Vestele giggled, looking at her own sleeves.

"I prefer full sleeves actually, if you don't mind..."

"Well not a problem. I'll fetch a thick undergarment for you then. What colour?"

Azriel glanced at the dress hanging on her side of the screen.

"Dark blue or violet probably" She hazarded.

"Very well then. Oh and I nearly forgot!" Vestele approached the screen, but Azriel made a hand motion that clearly suggested 'that's far enough'

"It's your mother's hair piece. I thought you'd like it" She set down a small velvet jewellery box on the table beside the rest of the jewels. "Did you find a piece you liked from this collection? It's all the fad with the young maidens you know" She smiled brightly.

"Not really. Do you have anything less... ornate? A ring maybe?"

"One for subtlety are you? That's surprising indeed! But I'll find something. I'll bring it with the undergarment. Not to worry"

* * *

Vestele returned with Evanna some time later, with a set of cold-coloured velveteen full sleeved undergarments and a ring box. Azriel was still in her underclothes, hiding timidly behind the screen.

"I've got the undergarment. I've kept the ring by the hair piece. When your all finished with the dresses call me and I'll do up your hair for you!" Vestele enthusiastically pranced from here to there while placing the undergarment and ring box in their rightful places.

"We can manage the rest. Are there hair brushes and pins lying about?" Evanna spoke amicably towards her mother, but still maintained a cautionary air. One could never be too careful with such things.

"Yes, yes. In the drawers... Shall I be off then?"

"Yes, thank you" Evanna smiled a smile that reached her eyes, and Vestele was put at ease.

When the room was quiet again, Azriel came out from behind the screen.

"Well. What colours has she brought?" She strolled over to the chairs where the various velvet under-shirts were laid out and observed each one.

"I think the indigo is the only way to go, Aza"

"Agreed"

Picking up the dark blue piece of clothing, she sauntered back to the screen and pulled it on hastily above her corset.

"I'll put on the dress now..."

Evanna slid behind the screen with the dress and helped Azriel with the fitting and adjustment. Now there was a matter of hair and jewellery.

"How'd you want your hair done, Aza?"

"I'll think for a bit. Your mother brought a hair pin... Shall I do yours?"

"Of course. I think a spider's braid? Perhaps that's too close to home for these elves..." She chuckled amicably.

"Ha ha ha!" Azriel was in stitches. Pretending to wipe tears from her eyes she added: "Oh I think that pretty prince will think we're mocking him"

"Oh well that's because we would be wouldn't we?" Both elves were clutching their stomachs and hollering indecently - at least it was indecent in this realm, for an elven lady to laugh so openly and indiscreetly.

"All right, all right. I'll do a simple cross braid. You'll look grand as always"

"I'm sure you will too, Aza" Both elves smiled at each other, before Azriel grabbed a brush from the drawer along with some pins and set to work.

* * *

By the time Evanna was completely ready, jewels and all, Azriel was just getting started with her hair. She needed no help from Evanna for this particular style. The hair pin that Lady Vestele had brought was a beauty, and fit Azriel's standards perfectly.

It was unique and subtly highlighted with cold colours. Blues and greens and violets were her favourites. Especially blue.

Pulling her hair up neatly, she used the hair pin to secure the bun, and added a subtle string of glittering pale pink gems that she found in the bag with the hair pin. She pulled down her sleeves as far as they would go, until they covered about half of her hand. She didn't want to risk even a smidge of her arms showing. Even her undergarment was high collared, obscuring her neck from view.

In fact, her face and hands were the only exposed parts of her skin.

The final touch was the ring. Opening the box she found the most beautiful ring she'd ever laid eyes on.

It was small and fitted her finger perfectly - her right middle finger that is. It had a round amethyst set in the centre with two rain drop shaped diamonds surrounding it, like a flower with two petals.

"Evanna, well, how do I look?" She spun around for effect and gave her friend a nervous smile.

"Gorgeous. They won't recognize you at all"

"Neither will they you" Azriel assured Eva.

"Ha ha, my hair and eyes are dead give-aways. But I'm not bothered. God when will this party begin! It's been three hours at least!" Evanna looked at the door and heaved a sigh.

She flopped onto a chair and spread her legs wide - it didn't matter since she was in a gown. Azriel followed suit. They talked and complimented each other for a while, and remained silent for the rest of the time.

A knock on the door woke them from their respective trances.

Themra opened the door and smiled broadly when she beheld their transformation. "My my, you both look grander than queens! It's time"

All three elves left the small dressing room, on their way to the grand celebration of the daughters' return.

It was going to be grand indeed.

* * *

 **Woo hoo we're getting somewhere.**

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 **PS - I'm SO SORRY FOR THE HIATUS! PLEASE FORGIVE ME!**


	9. Welcome Home I

**WELCOME HOME I**

* * *

The ball room was bustling with guests, dozens arriving every minute. The King sat on a throne at the head of the room, over looking the entire crowd from the dais. Thranduil was mingling with the crowd, waiting for his friends to arrive. They always felt the need to be unbearably late just to annoy him. As of late they'd had many memories to share that didn't include him, because of his civic and royal duties as prince of the Greenwood. It was a nuisance, but at the end of the day his friends were still his friends and time had to be made for them.

That was one of the reasons that Thranduil was so fond of parties. Always a fun time for him to socialize with his friends. One would be surprised he had any from his entire demeanour over the past few days, but he was like any other young elf - sociable, boisterous, occasionally rambunctious, and entirely haughty.  
Although Thranduil was a prince, he was still a very eligible bachelor among the young noble Sindar ladies, although Thranduil preferred none of them since they had very shallow taste and almost no knowledge of political matters whatsoever. His male-elf-friends placed wagers for and against the ones Thranduil would inevitably reject. Sadly for him, there hadn't been many promising candidates.

Even now the pompous Sindar ladies prowled around with an eye that specifically targeted Thranduil. Some were mothers of prospective brides and others were the prospective brides themselves. Despite all that, even the married women had lingering glances every now and then. It was always excused as admiration of the Prince - 'A fine young man' they would say. But of course they were all talking about his pretty cheekbones and spectacular eyebrows.

He was the centre of attention.

But not for long.

* * *

Themra guided Evanna and Azriel through the maze of paths of the woodland realm with ease. The elves spent their travelling time memorizing the paths and walkways, which was not a difficult task considering their training. When Themra passed the turning which lead to the main hall, Azriel became instantly puzzled.

"Isn't the hall back that way?" She queried.

"That's the main entrance. I'm taking you to the doorway on the upper floor. That way your entrance will be grand, and your dresses' trains can trail down the staircases elegantly. Goodness how they will be in awe!" Themra sang, her hands making motions in the air for effect.

"Huh..." Azriel mumbled.

Her methodical brain immediately stored away the information of multiple entrances for future reference. Even the tiniest detail about a surrounding location could come in handy at the strangest of times.

They ascended a few staircases, hewn out of the stone of the cave itself, and followed several winding pathways. The woodland realm was magnificent from every angle within. Azriel and Evanna could not stop staring at the frescoes carved in the wood of the ceiling, or the stone pillars, the fountains, the torch lights on the walls - flickering wildly. Everything was so unfamiliar and unknown. It seemed daunting at first, but the presence of other elves helped.

"We're nearly there now" Themra stopped and turned around to regard the two she-elves. "Let's just do a few touch ups then, shall we?" Her voice was sweet, melodious, and motherly.

She pushed a few strands of Evanna's hair behind her ear and straightened both their skirts. She did Azriel the courtesy of folding in her long sleeves so that there was no chance of them creeping upwards in case she raised her arm at any point of time. They both shared a look of understanding, and Azriel was surprised at Themra's level of discretion.

She was most grateful for it.

They turned one last corner and reached a double door. It wasn't as grand as the main entrance, but it sufficed.

"I shall enter first, and then the doors will reopen for you both. Remember to smile! You're home after all"

Azriel and Evanna looked at each other nervously and then back at Themra.

"You'll both do just fine. Be confident!" Themra chimed.

* * *

In the crowd Thranduil spotted Verona.

As usual she was gorgeous. Her raven hair had been curled into subtle waves that fell with a natural grace. A small string of flowers was subtly woven in. All her hair was pulled back from her face, making her bright eyes more conspicuous. Unsurprisingly, she wore yet another newly sewn dress that Thranduil had never seen before. It was an uncharacteristic colour for her - cerulean blue. It was strapless and exposed her shoulders and collar bones. Thranduil hated how they stuck out. She looked like a malnourished animal at some angles. It was a cruel and harsh comment but Thranduil had pointed it out on several occasions to her. She never seemed to mind, but she never seemed to do anything about it either.

When she saw him her smile broadened and she waved. Thranduil waved back but with much less enthusiasm. He was glad to see her safe, and radiant as ever, but was worried about her ever since the rogue elf had made that lewd comment about her, despite checking on her after the interrogation.

They embraced physically, which earned a few stares. It was very uncommon for elves to physically embrace unless the two were established friends or married, but no matter when it happened there were always a few people who stared.

"Verona are you all right?" Thranduil's voice gushed with concern.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?" Verona asked, puzzled slightly. She seemed fine, didn't she?

"The elf, the brunette... when we were interrogating her she said something about you. Did you go to meet them?" Thranduil's concern turned to anger. He had specifically told her _not_ to interfere, and yet she had done exactly that.

"I was just a bit curious! Besides, nothing major happened. Lady Leilath was there after all, so nothing could possibly go wrong" Verona chimed as if nearly getting seriously injured was a joke.

"Those two are dangerous, Verona. You should have been more careful!" Thranduil chided, but to no effect. He ran a hand through his immaculate hair in frustration, accepting defeat. "Anyway, where were you in the afternoon? Nlaea said you went out for something"

"Oh yes, just to pick flowers for my hair" She said, pulling a lock of hair over her shoulder to show Thranduil the woven flowers. "Your mother said they looked like exotic insects"

The corner of his mouth quirked up slightly, but before he was able to broaden it into a full, tooth bearing smile, there was a flourish of instruments and the double doors on the upper floor opened.

His mother emerged, wearing an ornate green gown in the classic royal style, a small wooden crown woven with spring flowers atop her head.

The whole hall was silenced by the appearance of the Queen. An elf-herald announced the arrival with a clear and crisp voice.

"Now presenting, Her Royal Majesty, Queen Themra of Greenwood"

Thranduil's mother descended the staircase with her natural grace. Her dress had no train, which made the whole process much faster. As soon as she reached the bottom of the staircase she made a hand motion for the doors to be opened once more.

As they swung open, slower than before, the herald spoke: "Now presenting, Lady Evanna and Lady Lianna. Daughters of the Lady Vestele and the Lady Nithroel. By word of the King, we welcome them home"

A flourish of instruments, and the doors opened.

And there stood the most alluring, enchanting elf Thranduil had ever laid eyes on.

* * *

In fact he barely noticed the red haired beauty who stood beside her.

Her hair - a bright shade of golden blonde - was tied high on her head with a crystal hair pin which reflected the lights and shimmered. Her eyes were bright and constantly darting around.

Now that all the dirt had been washed away Thranduil could see a completely different person. She had a round face, small nose, and thin lips which naturally curved up at the ends, making her look like she was constantly smirking or amused by something. Her dress was as blue as her eyes, and the flower patterns were inlaid with gems which caught the light, beautifully reflecting it. She wore a strange, indigo full-sleeved velveteen garment under the dress - which Thranduil found odd, but it hardly distracted him from the rest of her; pulchritudinous as she was.

Her eyes caught his for a moment, and her entire expression became apprehensive and guarded. Though her expression changed, she didn't avert her gaze for a while, and Thranduil felt his face warming. He was going to look away, but Evanna, the red-head that Thranduil had failed to notice (looking beautiful herself) tapped her on the shoulder, drawing her attention away from Thranduil.

Thranduil bit his lip and frowned, annoyed that she had been victorious in their stare-down - twice before as well. Although he would never admit it to himself, he was also frowning because he had actually found her attractive.

Verona, who was still near him, suddenly interrupted his thoughts.

"Oh my... Thranduil, it's... it's them!" Verona's eyes widened with awe in light of the two gorgeous elves who stood above the crowd on the staircase - descending as slowly as queens would - completely unrecognisable.

Verona now saw the the brown-haired elf was in fact blonde. They were both so gorgeous that Verona began to feel slightly self-conscious. She turned to Thranduil, who seemed to be entranced by them.

 _But how can it be them? Those same elves who attacked Thranduil and I... I can't... I can't believe this!_

"Yes..." Thranduil trailed off absent-mindedly. He was too busy eyeing the blonde elf, whom he'd thought was a brunette. Perhaps Leilath was right and she had dyed her hair... How coincidental.

Verona continued despite Thranduil's apparent disinterest. "But don't you understand, Thranduil! How can they be here? Shouldn't they have been executed!?."

"No... My father said that we can't. They're too important... Look, Verona, it's complicated, okay?" Thranduil's mind was clearly still distracted.

"I-I don't understand this at all, Thranduil. They hurt you! They deserve punishment!"

Thranduil turned to Verona and regarded her with sad eyes. "That may be true, but it was a matter of circumstance. Please just let it go. Forget about what they did. Those elves are not the same as these ones..."

Verona sighed, defeated. "I don't know what goes on in the King's mind, but perhaps I should trust his decision..." She looked back at the elves with a conflicted expression.

 _Maybe if I get to know them, it won't be so bad... Better to be friends with them rather than enemies..._

Verona observed the two elves, who were ethereal and enticing. "Hmm, I wonder why the blonde one isn't showing any skin..." She mumbled. "No jewellery either... I wonder if..."

But Thranduil didn't hear the rest. He, however, did observe that Verona was right - Thranduil couldn't see a smidge of her skin other than her hands and face. And she adorned not a single jewel other than her hair pin and a small, barely noticeable ring on her finger.

Thranduil took a moment to regard Evanna. Her wine red hair had become more vibrant, and her green eyes sparkled. Her face was thin and smooth. She had thin eyebrows and a wide smile which showed off her brilliantly white teeth.

"What are their names again? Lianna and Evanna?"

"Yes" Thranduil said, with much more interest. "Where is Nlaea? Shouldn't she be here along with the rest of the group?"

Verona huffed and pouted. "They're stuck on guard duty. So annoying. I mean, could your father have picked a worse time for it! We haven't been together in _ages"_ She extended the word, like a child pleading with it's mother.

Even Thranduil was a bit annoyed. He hadn't been with all his friends informally for a long while now - too many political matters to attend to, and then things like this - guard duty. Most of his friends were in the King's guard or the Elven Guard. The members of the King's guard got to see him more often that the others, but it was still on formal terms. His father had been specific about his interactions with his friends when he was playing the part of a prince - strictly formal.

"Anyway, look how happy Vestele is" Verona sighed and smiled happily - apparently forgetting all about her earlier apprehension to the two elves. Even Thranduil noticed how merry Lady Vestele was.

She had good reason to be, after all. Her daughter had returned after more than a century. But although these were meant to be happy times, Thranduil was still guarded, as was his father.

 _There is more to this than meets the eye. I just_ know _it._

* * *

The crowd was currently fawning over the two elves, completely unaware of how they came to be there, or the circumstances that led up to them returning. It was truly a design forged by Destiny and Fate themselves.

" _Why do they keep calling me Lianna?"_ Azriel whispered nervously.

She was trying desperately to keep up appearances, but seemed surprisingly daunted by the sheer number of people that were suddenly so interested in her. She had no idea how to answer all their questions, so she just followed Evanna's lead - smiling and saying she couldn't remember where she was from. Smiling so superficially was annoying for her, but Evanna found it easy.

Evanna had received more hands-on training in regards to blending in and deceiving others - whereas Azriel had only done the theoretical part, choosing to focus more on combat and battle strategy. Together they made the perfect team - but sometimes they needed a bit of help from on another, as all comrades do.

" _It's your old name, I expect"_ Evanna whispered back, still engaging multiple people in conversations.

" _They keep asking questions! What do I do!"_ Azriel hissed back with impatience. She was finding it tough to keep smiling so broadly.

" _Say you don't remember. Say you woke up without memories"_ Evanna murmured back, in that same unknown elvish tongue that they used with each other.

Thankfully, not long after, Vestele politely pushed away the curious elves, allowing Evanna and Azriel to have some space.

She clapped her hands once, a merry expression adorning her features.

"Now then, Evanna, Lianna", Azriel flinched slightly at the use of her apparent name. "How do you like your home? I expect it's a bit much to take in all at once, but all the elves here are being very supportive just by attending this ball"

"..."Azriel was blank. She was quickly saved by Evanna.

"Well, it's a lot of people... but the atmosphere is nice! Very... homely" She said, a bit unsure of herself.

Nevertheless, Vestele smiled. "Would you like to eat or dance first? It's all up to you"

The two she-elves considered for a moment. They looked at each other and silent words passed between them.

Vestele raised an eyebrow, "Well?"

"Dancing" They said in unison.

It was an unexpected answer - considering that they were warriors, but dancing was something both the elves thoroughly enjoyed. Where they were trained, there was a deep sense of camaraderie and friendship - and they often held parties of their own, usually celebrating a victory in battle. There, Evanna and Azriel would dance with one another, as well as their comrades, to their hearts content - and still have enough energy to go out for a reconnaissance mission or two. Although Azriel was specifically trained for combat, and Evanna for espionage - both were natural dancers, and enjoyed the art as much as any other.

It was perhaps a happy accident, that their mothers too were brilliant dancers.

* * *

The strings of a harp chimed in unison with the flutes. The hall resonated with the sounds of calming, slow music. It was traditional for the King and Queen to start the dancing with a maiden dance, but Themra saw fit to make an exception. Originally the daughters and mothers were supposed to dance together to embrace their return, however since Nithroel was away in Lake Town, the two elves would dance with each other.

And so they did.

Since Azriel was shorter than Evanna, she played the part of the 'woman', and placed her hand on Evanna's shoulder. Evanna's hand was on Azriel's waist, and the two were smiling more broadly than they had the entire night, because now they were finally comfortable. The noise of the hall droned out, and all that was left was the music. The two elves swayed over the dance floor, turning and gracefully matching their movements to the sweet melody.

The audience watched them with happiness, awe, joy, and a bit of jealously - they were, after all, brilliant dancers.

* * *

Thranduil and Verona stood near the front, close by to the King - who had just risen from his throne. Thranduil's mother stood close by, with her fingers touching her lips, beaming. Thranduil didn't notice, as he was too busy focussing on the two elves in the centre of the hall. They appeared completely distant from the drone of the crowd, in their own world of enchantments and fantasies. Their smiles seemed genuine, now that he observed. Earlier he saw that they were extremely forced and all together awkward.

The music reached a crescendo, and Evanna seamlessly lifted Azriel, as if she was feather weighted, and held her there till the music died away. The crowd burst into applause, and even Thranduil was compelled to clap at the impressive display of strength.

 _Yet another indication of their ability..._

He ran a hand through his hair, once again in a state of exasperation.

The music started again, a different and more familiar melody. The King held out his hand to his wife, and they took to the floor. The two she-elves retreated to the sidelines, exchanging small talk with a few elves. Thranduil noticed how uncomfortable they seemed when talking about themselves.

 _A weakness?_ He mused inwardly.

Verona yanked him away from his thoughts - figuratively and literally. Without a word she threw her hand on his shoulder and his automatically settled on her waist. They had done this so many times. Hundreds of dances, parties, and balls. Always a little different, always a little special. Always with the same person.

They were each other's default partner.

The two danced with practised grace and harmony, and outdid even the King and Queen.

The music chimed, ascended, and finally descended to silence - but only for a moment. Now the _real_ dances were starting, and more and more couples were flooding the dance floor.

* * *

Azriel's and Evanna's attention was brought back once again to the dance floor. Dozens of couples had gathered. They were preparing for the main couples dance of the evening. From within the crowd Evanna picked out King Oropher with Queen Themra, her own parents, as well as Prince Thranduil and his beloved. She gave Azriel a look that yelled 'Let's join them'. Azriel pursed her lips and considered.

The music was beginning to ascend, and the couples had already taken their positions. Before Azriel could give a formal reply, Evanna grabbed her hand and dragged her on to the floor. As soon as they'd taken their positions, the dance began.

For a while they danced with one another, as elegantly as before. The music suddenly ascended, and Evanna spun Azriel away from her, towards her next partner.

On the receiving end, Evanna was graced with a lovely young maiden-elf, who seemed to stumble into Evanna's arms - no doubt due to lack of experience in such dances. She seemed utterly surprised to be in the arms of a woman, but Evanna took complete pleasure in leading their dance. When she spun away, the maiden-elf seemed content.

Evanna then received Thranduil's beloved, the pretty dark haired elf she and Azriel had encountered earlier. They were both slightly taken aback - to say the least.

Evanna, surprisingly, initiated conversation.

"I am sorry, for attacking you" She said, twirling the elf around with the music.

"It's fine. Leilath was there, after all" She replied with ease. "I am Verona"

"And I am Evanna, as you know"

Verona smiled. "You are lovely dancers, you and your friend" She nodded in the general direction of where Azriel probably was at the moment.

"As are you and the Prince"

They exchanged no more words, and Evanna was slightly glad when she finally spun Verona away to her next partner.

* * *

Azriel had just finished a silent dance with the King himself. They had both been silent as well as completely stoic, regarding each other carefully - doubtlessly searching for clues, weaknesses, and the like.

When she spun away from him, she assumed that Fate had finished giving her her share of daunting tasks for the evening - speaking to a crowd, posing in a dress, smiling, dancing with a king. So one can understand why she was slightly surprised, and more than annoyed, that her next partner was the Prince of the Greenwood.

Their eyes widened in surprise before their hands even met.

Now that Azriel could see him up close and clearly - without the shroud of the hood, or the dullness and darkness of the interrogation cell - she found that he was not at all pale. Perhaps it was the lack of light in the forest, or the abundance of light in the ballroom, but now she could clearly see.

Golden hair and crystal blue eyes; brighter than her own.

* * *

Thranduil was surprised to be holding in his arms the same she-elf who had attacked him just a day ago. It was a humorous situation, no doubt entertaining to the Gods.

Of all the things that he found surprising and misleading about her, her gentle touch was by far the most. With as much skill she displayed when pitted against him before, she must have had years if not decades of practice with a blade, which would no doubt result in calloused and hardened hands. So naturally Thranduil was surprised when he found that her hands were even softer than Verona's.

In the bright light he could make out little flecks of different shades of blue in her eyes, mirroring his own.

"This is ironic isn't it?" He nearly jumped when she spoke. "You and me, who have just recently faced off as enemies, now in one another's arms. How Fate fashions such cruel designs"

Her voice was completely different now compared to what it was before, when Thranduil and his father had interrogated her. It was void of that tired note of exasperation and weariness.

"Funny, I was just wondering what sorts of shitty things it had yet to throw at me" Thranduil joked, surprising even himself at the lightness of his tone. After all, this woman was the same one who'd bested him in battle.

"Wow! I didn't know the Prince of the Greenwood had such an _ugly_ mouth" She half smiled and raised an eyebrow. Thranduil was instantly taken aback by how easy she could change her personality - from intense to imploring to cynical.

"Yours isn't so great either"

"Hah! Thank you. That's a compliment, where I come from"

"It mustn't be a very civilised place then" He quipped.

"Not compared to this place"

"Obviously" Thranduil twirled her around and pulled her into his chest. His face was in her hair for a moment, and he caught the scent of jasmine and white cotton.

* * *

Azriel was taken by surprise when the Prince suddenly pulled her into him. From the corner of her eye she noticed that she was not the only one. She silently thanked the Gods for it, despite not having much reason to. For a moment her face was pressed against his chest and she inhaled the faint smell of rain and oak. It was pleasant and subtle, like spring.

When she pulled away she kept her face placid and stoic. For a while they danced in silence, until Thranduil decided to speak up.

"You are a fine dancer, as is your companion"

She smirked. "You and your wife aren't so bad yourselves"

"What wife?" Thranduil's bemused expression nearly made Azriel laugh out loud.

"The indecently dressed dark haired elf you were dancing with" She stated.

Thranduil frowned at her comment and then chuckled. "Oh, Verona? We aren't married, just friends. And what's so indecent about her dress? It seems fine to me"

Thranduil glanced to where Verona was. Azriel followed his gaze and saw her stunning form, dancing perhaps even as gracefully as Azriel herself.

"Everything's visible" Azriel deadpanned. As someone who preferred to keep _all_ her skin covered at _all_ times _,_ she was always judging other women for being exposed.

"Do you expect her to dress as prudishly as you do?" Thranduil smirked, clearly amused by his comment.

Azriel was most certainly not. She didn't bother retorting, as it would only make him make fun of her further. She didn't want to be the cause of yet another violent assault on the Prince.

"Nevermind" And the issue was closed.

"You've recovered well" He broke the silence once more.

"As have you. No one would guess that your hand had been pierced by an arrow so recently. Your healer must be skilled." Azriel stated. Although she generally despised the current situation and the company she was forced to bear with - she was not so arrogant as to fail to acknowledge someone else's skill and ability.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Your name-" Azriel cut through the momentary silence. Thranduil was slightly puzzled. "It is Thranduil?"

"Ah, yes?" He answered as if it were obvious - and it technically was, but Azriel was at a loss for it's meaning, although her Sindarin thesaurus was vast.

"What does it mean? In Sindarin" She asked, genuinely curious.

"It means spring, I guess. Vigorous spring, if you translate it completely"

"How funny" She mumbled, lost in her thoughts.

 _Spring. Yet again, Fate and it's designs..._

"What about yours?" Suddenly a thought dawned on Thranduil. "Evanna said your name was Azriel during the interrogation, yet, Lady Nithroel's daughter's name is Lianna..."

Azriel's expression immediately hardened. "That is _not_ my name"

Thranduil was clearly puzzled. "But then-"

"I don't care what they said. Lianna is not my name"

"But then are you not Nithroel's-"

"No. I am not!" She hissed.

"What does that _mean?_ Were you not taken from here a century ago? Are you not our kin?!" Thranduil hissed back.

"I am Azriel, and that is all I know!"

As Thranduil spun her out and away, she abruptly let go of his hand and walked off the dance floor, completely ignoring the hand held out to her by her next partner.

She strode through the crowd without giving Thranduil so much as a glance, heading straight for the exit.

Although she had passed through the halls only once, she knew her way back to her designated chamber by heart. Nlaea had been kind enough to show her where she and Evanna would be staying, which Azriel was thankful for. Without so much as a distant thought for the commotion she had probably caused at the ball, she walked on.

* * *

A few heads turned as Lianna, Azriel, whoever she was, made her way to the exit of the ballroom. The dance was slightly disrupted, but as soon as Thranduil left the dance floor, the synchronization was somewhat restored.

He spotted Evanna, if that truly was her name, amidst the dancers, thoroughly enjoying herself. He turned his head back to Lianna - Azriel - just in time to see her turn the corner out into the hallway.

Despite his better judgement, he followed her.

* * *

 **FINALLY DONE WITH DIS CHAPTAH! I LOVED WRITING THIS OMG. Although I had to go back and edit tons of things after I forgot about what I'd already written in previous chapters. GAH I really need to fill in loopholes... xD**

 **REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! What do you think of the characters so far? Who's your FAV ! (I mean BESIDES Thranduil, obviously).**

 **Btw, Thranduil and Azriel's ship name is Thraza - just in case you were wondering :D**


	10. Welcome Home II

**This one may be a bit short compared to the previous 2-3 chaps.**

* * *

 **WELCOME HOME II**

* * *

The halls of the Woodland realm were a strange impossible maze, built for a sharp and curious mind. Azriel found navigating it a good distraction from all else that weighed heavily on her mind. It was quite burdensome, but the propinquity she had shared with the Prince had made her suddenly unsure of herself.

She could not fathom, for one, how he had so easily forgiven her. Of course, she had also been the bearer of many wounds - but a large number of those were not caused directly by him. This strange and abrupt forgiveness had somehow shaken her and made her more vulnerable than any battle ever would - though the last thing she would do was reveal this to him.

 _So many intriguing games he's pulling me into... Surely he cannot condone my actions with such little care? Or was it his mother that prevailed over both the Prince and the King... He seemed resigned to his fate, after all. Perhaps that Queen did us more good than not._

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and continued on her way. She was not running, more like, briskly walking to her chambers. Hopefully Evanna would notice she'd left and come to see her before she fell asleep. Falling asleep alone... that wouldn't end well for anybody at all.

* * *

Thranduil saw her turn a corner, skirts flying behind her. He thought of giving up and letting her go, after all, it was not like she showed any signs of knowing that she was being followed, although at this point Thranduil was not going to underestimate her ability to surprise him.

His mind kept telling him to turn around and return to the celebration, lest anyone suspect anything about the returned elves, but his body continued to disobey him. He hurried to the corner so as not to lose her if she turned another, and was just in time to see her entering the door at the end of the hall.

These rooms were located in a particularly elite part of the palace, which was not surprising considering Vestele's and Nithroel's high rank. The doors were beautifully embellished and had a baroque style which Thranduil himself found appealing, although he couldn't say the same for all his friends' opinions. They thought his tastes were 'archaic' and 'too pomp'. Thranduil wasn't bothered by this though.

When he finally reached the door, his hand reflexively motioned to knock, but he suddenly stopped himself.

He didn't know why he was doing it, but before he knew it his hand had turned the knob and he'd stepped into the room.

* * *

The room was shrouded in darkness, save for two small candles on the windowsill. Azriel stood by the open window opposite the door. The breeze ruffled a stray lock of hair that had come undone from her bun, probably because of her enthusiastic dance with Evanna earlier in the evening.

The sound of the door knob turning made her ears prick like a cat's, and without any hesitation she reached for the nearest weapon at arms length - her hair pin.

With all the grace of a dancing peacock she spun around, and at the same time her hair unravelled in a shimmering golden wave.

By the time her hair had settled against her shoulders the hair pin had embedded itself in the wall just next to the door.

Just next to someone's head.

 _Just my luck. Of course he came after me..._

"Tch. I missed" She grumbled and turned back to the window, completely ignoring the Prince.

"Not by much..."

She heard him pull the hairpin out of the wall - honestly, she was surprised it went through. Her throw hadn't been _that_ powerful. Maybe it was just residual frustration that had manifested physically. That made the most sense.

His footsteps brought him closer and closer to her until he was right beside her. He proffered the hairpin to her, but Azriel's gaze remained affixed forward. She felt rather than saw him shrug and close his fist around the pin.

"So...," he began awkwardly, "...Why did you run off?"

"You were chasing me" She turned her chin up, back to her usual deflection.

"That's a lie! You ran away _first_ and _then_ I chased after you." He muttered, but it was clearly heard in the still and silent room.

"Isn't that what happens in children's tales? The Prince runs after his Princess"

"You are _not_ my Princess" He scoffed defensively, making Azriel smile, although he couldn't see it since she had turned away from him.

"No, I'm not. But who is... I am interested to know..." She turned her head to see him glancing nervously at the wall. She chuckled.

"Nevermind that. Unimportant"

"You shouldn't say that so easily, you know" Her tone was light but her words were serious. "A Prince needs to choose his bride wisely, else the whole kingdom can fall to ruin"

Thranduil cocked an eyebrow. "Who told you that?"

"It's a bit obvious, don't you think"

She turned around and leaned her elbows against the window sill, tilting her head back so her hair tumbled out of the window into the open air. She looked comical, but beautiful in the moonlight. Thranduil bit his lip and tried to think of something to say.

"All right, I was kidding. In truth I was taught about the working of monarchies when I was a child" She craned her neck up to look at him, still leaning against the sill nonchalantly.

"By whom?" Thranduil leaned against one of the bedposts and crossed his arms, trying to be casually curious rather than aggressively interrogative.

Azriel saw right through it.

"You won't catch me off guard _that_ easily, silly Prince" She said it with humour rather than spite this time, which made Thranduil annoyed.

 _How can she act so guarded and then SUDDENLY act so familiar, as if we have known one another for decades?_

Thranduil tried hard to prevent any uneasiness from showing up on his face.

He succeeded.

* * *

The party continued as if nothing had happened. Barely anyone noticed Azriel's and Thranduil's absence. It had been a long time since a celebration _this_ grand had been held for any occasion, and the Woodland elves were taking this opportunity to enjoy with enthusiasm and zeal.

The only people who felt something odd were Evanna and Verona. Naturally.

They both glanced from side to side, scanning the crowds for the prettiest elf in the room. As if written by Fate, their eyes met, and in their bones they felt that neither Thranduil nor Azriel was present in the room. They pushed through the crowds with a slight abundance of urgency towards one another.

"Where are they?!" They both said simultaneously, surprising each other.

"I'm not sure. I saw them leave the dance floor, but then I lost sight of them..." Evanna sighed, a worried look crossing her face.

 _She must not sleep..._

"Me too. Maybe we should ask someone..." Verona scanned the crowd for someone who'd be able to help, but Evanna shook her head.

"No point. Listen, you can-"

A hand closed around Evanna's arm and jerked her away from Verona. Evanna was nearly about to throw a punch in defence, when she saw that it was just her mother.

"Evanna, my dear, Nithroel is arriving soon! We must meet her! Where is Lianna?"

"Az-Lianna," She corrected herself. She was a bit befuddled, but the rest of the lie came to her naturally and fluidly: "... was quite exhausted, and has retired to her chambers"

"Oh! A pity! I was hoping she and Nithroel would be reunited this very night!"

Evanna quickly deduced that Nithroel was Azriel's - technically Lianna's - mother.

"I may meet her in Lianna's stead, for the time being"

"Yes, of course! This way..." Vestele guided Evanna through the vast hall and towards one of the many antechambers.

Once the door was closed behind them the sounds of the party droned out. A petite she-elf with light brown hair sat on an armchair. She wore a suede bodice and a simple cotton skirt - clearly not crafted by Elven hands.

 _Clearly not dressed for a party..._ Evanna thought.

"Vestele, is this...?" The elf perked up and rose from her chair, extending her hands towards Evanna.

"Yes. Evanna, this is Lady Nithroel. Lianna's mother"

Nithroel clasped Evannas hands and smiled with pure joy.

"The Holy Valar have blessed us. Truly, we can ask for nothing more than our daughters returning home safe"

Evanna noticed how Nithroel's face looked visibly old and withered. Signs of ageing were extremely rare in most elves, especially ones of noble birth. Evanna made note of this small detail.

"I'm sorry, Lianna was so tired..."

"I understand. I've waited a century, one more day won't kill me" She chuckled, and Evanna smiled.

"I will change and join the party soon" She let go of Evanna's hands and bowed to both her and Vestele.

Evanna curtsied and smiled at Nithroel as she left the room. Unfortunately, since her mother was here, she couldn't sneak off to look for Azriel.

No matter. Azriel could take care of herself well enough.

"Shall we return to the party?" Vestele held her daughter's hand and Evanna nodded.

The door of the antechamber opened and the buzz of elves became louder and louder until it was all Evanna could hear.

* * *

Azriel ran a hand through her hair and sighed. The fatigue was finally catching up to her. She hadn't had even a morsel at the banquet - which was ironic since the whole thing was in honour of her and Evanna.

"I think you were lying when you said you didn't know who poisoned you" Thranduil blurted.

Azriel took a moment to construct the best possible reply.

 _Should I tell him the truth? If only Evanna were here. She's much better at this that I am. I always let down my guard. Curse this prying bastard..._

 _But... Evanna herself said that for the time being we will take shelter with these elves... Would it not be better to at least tell them who our enemy is? That_ would _make it easier to defend us... then again, he may just throw us back into the woods... Why is this so DIFFICULT!_

Her expression remained placid while her mind went through an endless number of possible answers.

Finally she decided to let slip a smidge of useful information. Not _too_ much, but just enough to keep her and Evanna in a safe spot for the time being.

"You're right"

* * *

Thranduil couldn't stop his eyes from widening.

 _How easily she revealed herself! What game is she playing? Is it a ploy of sorts? I must be on guard..._

"As surprising as it may seem to the likes of you," She gave him an icy look, "there are certain people out there who are after us."

This was not _entirely_ correct. The truth was that 'certain people' wanted them dead. Well, to be specific, they wanted only one of them dead. It was a strange and elaborate condition that had to be met - one part of a grand scheme of events - and it was the primary reason that they had fled from their home, and into the Woodland realm.

But at the moment, that information did not have to be revealed. She gauged his reaction carefully, trying to discern how he would react.

"It doesn't seem surprising"

"Oh? And why is that?" She gave him a pointed look.

Thranduil shrugged. "You are intelligent, beautiful, and well trained. Obviously valuable to _someone_ "

Azriel smiled sardonically. "If only they valued beauty as much as skill"

"And who are 'they'?" Thranduil hazarded another question.

He didn't fail to notice the shadow that passed over Azriel's face when he asked.

"Powerful people" Her voice was soft and resonated with something Thranduil didn't think possible for her.

Fear.

* * *

Thranduil was at a loss for words - something that seemed to be a frequent occurrence whenever he conversed with Azriel. Lianna, Azriel, he still didn't know her true name. But at this point he assumed it was not a good question to ask.

 _So many mysteries surrounding these two... Their true names, where they were taken, where they have returned from... who they are running from._

 _Powerful people... If they can make_ her _fearful, then I must be weary. No doubt they will venture into this land, and it will become our war as well as theirs..._

Thranduil's jaw dropped at the thought of them fighting side by side against a common enemy. Fate itself would laugh at the irony.

Suddenly he felt like his presence was disturbing the silence somehow. He stood up straight and cleared his throat slightly. Azriel turned to the window again and sighed. She leaned against the side of the window frame and closed her eyes.

Thranduil looked down at his hand which still held her jewel embellished hairpin. He opened his fist and the gems caught the dull moonlight, glittering as he moved his hand slightly. He looked back up at Azriel, and was rendered speechless - yet again. Now, she was nothing like the woman he saw at the top of the staircase in the banquet hall - fierce, powerful. From this angle, her shoulders looked so small, and her waist so narrow. She looked like a delicate porcelain flower that would shatter if it was touched the wrong way.

Thranduil was afraid that if he uttered even a single word, she would turn to dust.

* * *

He took a step towards the door. The sound made her jump.

She shook her head to get rid of the sleep that was washing over her in waves.

 _I can't sleep... not yet... not alone..._

She pressed her palm against her forehead. "Don't leave" It nearly sounded like a whimper.

Thranduil stopped in his tracks.

"What?"

"Don't leave until Evanna comes back"

"That could be hours!" He grumbled.

"Then you'll stay for hours!" She snapped, pressing her palm harder against her head.

"Are you _that_ afraid of being alone for a while?" Thranduil joked.

"Fine. Leave. But find Evanna and tell her to come quickly. I can't stay awake for much longer" Now her voice was softer than a mumble.

Thranduil was growing slightly concerned - which irked him slightly. He had no reason to concern himself with Azriel's well-being, yet here he was, being concerned about her.

"I'll tell her, if it's really that important" He said.

"Thank you" She whispered. She stumbled slightly and put her hand on the sill to support herself.

Thranduil opened the door and stood motionless for a second. He looked over his shoulder at her and then down at the floor. He bit his lip, considering his words carefully.

"Listen, Azriel... don't worry. You are _safe_ "

Azriel felt suddenly wide awake. Her eyes met his and they held each other's gazes for a moment too long.

 _Why... Why do you show me such a kindness? I do not deserve it..._

"I promise that you will be protected here, in this palace, in _my_ palace _"_

He smiled with one half of his mouth and the look in his eyes softened. She felt herself blushing at his words; his grand gesture.

"Your protection is not something I asked for, _pompous Prince_ " She smirked to hide her gratitude.

"I know" He smirked back.

He closed the door gently behind him and she was left in deafening silence. Finally, she let out the breath she didn't even know she was holding.

 _Thank you..._

* * *

 **A wee bit short, but eh whatcha gonna do about it :3**


	11. The Calling

**This chapter is a bit of a filler type... BUT it contains important info about the villains and stuff. So PAY ATTENTION!**

 **PS - I'm SO sorry for the LATE AS ALL FUCK update :(**

* * *

 **THE CALLING**

* * *

The sounds of the celebrating elves were rattling and harsh to Thranduil's ears, sharply contrasting with the stillness and silence of Azriel's chamber.

 _When did I even decide that I liked these kinds of things..._ He shook his head, tired of thinking about unimportant things like parties.

He found himself pondering why he had said what he had to her. He could have just left and looked for Evanna without another word. Yet he'd opened his mouth, and what had come out was not at all what he wanted to say.

Well technically, it was what he _meant_ to say, it was _how_ he said it that slightly concerned him.

 _I was... so... what even was I... And she was... so..._ not _her._

Another thing that vaguely crossed his mind was her reason for not wanting to be alone. Fear was altogether impossible for her. But what else could it be? Perhaps the apprehension of the unknown? Maybe she had some paranoia about someone being out to get her. It was all quite ridiculous when Thranduil thought about it. A grown Elven woman should be able to take care of herself alone - at least when inside a fortified palace.

He sighed, letting all thoughts go as he entered the hall. The boisterous sounds of merry-making flooded his senses.

 _Now, where is Evanna..._

* * *

The rave of the party was finally starting to get to Evanna. Everyone around her was dazed from the effects of too much alcohol. Her mother had left early to speak with Nithroel, who was retiring for the night. She was looking forward to meeting her daughter in the morning, although Evanna was sure that Azriel would most certainly not be.

It was already past mid-night, but very few elves had chosen to retire to their chambers - mostly elderly elves and members of the Guard who had shift changes. Everyone else had a generally jovial air about them.

In the crowd Evanna made out the King, who was mingling with some nobles. A serious expression crossed his face, and he directed the nobles to one of the antechambers. Evanna noticed that the nobles weren't dressed in celebratory attire like the rest of the attendees. In fact, their attire was strictly professional - breeches and armour plates - with foreign crests. They didn't have a woodland air about them either - if Evanna was one to judge.

 _Envoys from Lorien or Rivendell?_ Evanna wondered if she could slip away and listen in on their conversation, but the thought was cut short when a hand grasped her wrist.

She nearly pulled away and reflexively countered, as was her nature, but immediately her wrist was released.

"Evanna, excuse me." It was Prince Thranduil.

"You! Where is Azriel?!" Evanna whispered harshly so that no one could hear her name. After all, they only knew of 'Lianna'.

"She's in her room. She said to call you because she couldn't be alone for long..." Thranduil's sense of urgency was slightly damped by curiosity.

"She mustn't fall asleep alone! Why did you leave her?!" She grabbed his wrist and pushed through the crowd towards the exit.

"I had to find you!" Thranduil wrenched his wrist out of her grasp but kept pace with her as she navigated the way to the room.

"Didn't she ask you to stay?! She can't be alone... you just don't understand!" Thranduil cringed at the echo that Evanna's booming voice created.

 _Yes, she did ask me to stay. But I couldn't because..._ Well, why couldn't he have stayed? He truly did not know.

When they finally reached the door, Evanna didn't bother knocking. She flung open the door and found Azriel leaning by the window. Her head was against the wall and her eyes were closed. Not quite asleep, not quite awake.

"Azriel!" Evanna ran towards her, leaving Thranduil standing in the doorway.

She pulled Azriel's limp form into her arms and let her weight lean against her. Thranduil shuffled slightly awkwardly in the doorway, not sure if he should say something or just leave them.

"Listen, Prince Thranduil, please tell my mother, the Queen, King, whoever, that I was tired and had to sleep. Make sure we are not disturbed for the rest of the night" Evanna's voice radiated sincerity, and Thranduil was slightly taken aback. Honestly, he should have been used to it by now - especially considering these two.

"Yes, I will... Do you want help with her?" Thranduil hazarded the question.

"No. But thank you" She smiled.

Thranduil got the feeling that she wasn't just saying 'thank you' for his offer to help.

He was right.

"Goodnight, Prince Thranduil" And that was the signal for him to leave.

He closed the door behind him gently and began making his way back to the ballroom, although for what he did not know. The main guests, after all, were no longer there.

For a moment he mused Evanna's acute concern with Azriel being alone.

 _Is there truly something monumental about her being alone?_ For the moment, his curiosity was incredibly piqued.

* * *

Oropher steepled his fingers, considering carefully.

Just after the grand celebration had begun, a small envoy from Gil-Galad's army had arrived. Luckily, his adroit King's Guard had kept the arrival relatively clandestine.

Now, they stood before him.

They had come to ask him to fight in the war in the East. His army of Woodland elves would join The Last Alliance of Elves and Men. Of course, Oropher knew that there was no option to opt out. Once a leader was considered by Gil-Galad, they were obliged to follow him to the end. Such was his level of influence in the realm of elves, and perhaps men too.

 _Inconvenience upon inconvenience. First those rogues, my son is injured, the rogues are found to be our kin, a war in the East, foreign invaders. All because we had one perfect day..._ Oropher wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but the envoys were growing impatient.

They had brought with them a contract for him to sign in which he would specify the number of men and weapons he would be able to supply for the ongoing war. The only condition in the contract which bothered him was the one which stipulated that he _himself_ would have to join the fray.

 _Most inconvenient..._

"King Oropher, we truly do not wish to rush you, but a decision _must_ be made" One of the members of the envoy bowed and stood up with practised grace.

"I understand" Oropher stated. "I will go, but I will take no member of my King's Guard. Nor my son" He regarded the envoys, waiting for their approval.

"Then who shall fight with you?"

"The rest of my Woodland army. Weapons and all" He deadpanned.

"You will leave Greenwood defenceless?" The youngest elf blurted, earning a sharp look from the others.

"No. My King's Guard is large enough. It will remain" Oropher clarified.

"Thank you" The envoys bowed together. "We will deliver your decision to Gil-Galad himself in all haste"

"Thank you" Oropher bowed his head, but made no move to get up. "Please, join the party. I will return momentarily"

Soon he was left alone to ponder this predicament of his.

 _How utterly inconvenient..._

* * *

The landscape resonated with a chilly silence. Branches gave way and plants snapped underfoot as dozens of figures flooded out of the forest.

A single man stood tall on a high rock above, attentively watching. His eyes glowed red and sinister in the darkness.

"We are close" Another voice echoed softly behind him.

"I am not sure... Azriel" The red eyed man turned around to face the other. "I want you to leave this group and scout the south eastern lands on your own" His voice radiated power and sternness.

The man looked puzzled, although it was hard to discern in the dim light.

"But why? We tracked them heading towards the Iron Hills, did we not?"

"I know. But we have not sent anyone to the elf lands. Neither the Woodland Realm, nor Lothlorien, nor Rivendell"

"What reason would they have to shelter with other elves? Doubtless they'd be turned away..." Azriel's voice took a note of slight insistence.

"I don't know..." He turned back around and glanced at the silhouettes of the looming Misty Mountains. "I would feel more secure if we have searched every possible place" He turned back to Azriel and said, "My son, surely you understand my motives..."

It was less of a question, and more of a test. Azriel knew it as well as he knew that the people they were chasing were nowhere near the Iron Hills.

"Of course, my lord" Azriel bent down on one knee and held his fist against his chest in submission.

"How many times have I told you to call me by my name?" He laughed slightly and waved a hand in exasperation. Suddenly he seemed less like Azriel's King and more like his father. It was a strange and rare occurrence.

"Yes, Maro" Azriel bowed slightly and smiled sardonically.

Thanks to the darkness, his father didn't see.

He left Maro standing alone on the rock, gazing at the sun as it rose behind the Misty Mountains. The sunlight poured through the valleys and engulfed the darkness in its wake.

He turned back and looked at the distant trees that marked the start of the Elven Kingdom of Oropher.

He whispered to himself, "The child of Fear shall reign over the Darkness in the East"

 _How far will you run, my lovely Fears. How fast, how far, how long. Where will you run where I cannot find you..._

He jumped off the rock and joined his flowing ranks as they charged in stealthy silence towards the Lake Town of men.

 _How far..._

* * *

The sun seemed to take its time when it reached the edge of the Greenwood. With practised slowness it lazed forward, submerging the forest floor in a dull glow.

Oropher hadn't slept.

He had rested his eyes for an hour, but he hadn't returned to his chambers till morning. When he entered he saw his wife, the Queen, sprawled over the covers. It had been an exhausting night for her, what with all the preparations for the party, and then Nithroel's late arrival last night.

He sighed, not wanting to disturb her sleep, only to reveal to her his predicament - which would doubtlessly put her in a foul mood. Foul moods did little to help keep elves looking beautiful and radiant - especially in the mornings.

"Themra, my sweet. Wake up" He sat on the bed beside her and rested his palm against her hair.

"Mmm?" Her half lidded eyes adjusted to the dim light in the room. She fought the urge to yawn against the sleep. "Why didn't you come to bed last night?" She mumbled, pushing her hair behind her ears as she sat up.

"Do you remember Gil-Galad? We met him in Rivendell" Oropher's voice was soft as a feather touch.

"Hmm, yes. He's one of the royals, or something. I can't remember exactly. Was it long ago?" Themra rubbed the sleep from her eyes and licked her dry lips.

She was still in her dress from last night and hadn't bothered even covering herself with a bedsheet. She'd simply fallen into bed.

 _How unpresentable..._ She inwardly shuddered at herself.

"Yes yes, him. He's called me..." Oropher pursed his lips, trying to figure out a good way to articulate himself.

"Called for what?" She glanced at him nonchalantly, completely oblivious.

"War"

Silence radiated.

* * *

"When will you tell Thranduil" Themra deadpanned.

She was now in the process of getting herself dressed. She'd been silent for a good fifteen minutes before accepting the situation completely. Oropher had explained the needs and goals of The Last Alliance of Elves and Men to her, but she didn't really care. She was entirely worried about how Thranduil was going to take this news.

With Oropher gone, she alone would govern these lands with Thranduil's aid. She felt he was still too young and inexperienced to handle things on their own. The fact that his body had endured trauma recently didn't help the situation either.

"Soon" Was Oropher's vague reply.

A knock on the door startled them both. It was extremely rare for someone to approach the King or Queen when they were still in their chambers. That either meant that an important message had to be delivered, or that the messenger was new.

"Enter" Themra raised her voice from behind the screen where she was fixing her skirts and corset.

Nlaea entered silently and closed the door behind her.

"My King, forgive me. But it is urgent" Her fingers twitched impatiently as she waited for the King's permission to speak.

"Let's walk. I must meet Thranduil anyway" Oropher didn't bother bidding goodbye to Themra. They had done it too many times in the past for it to matter any more.

Nlaea opened the door for the King and they entered the silent echoing halls of the palace.

"What is it?" He trotted down the stairs informally as he spoke to her. She kept up pace with him easily.

"It's about _those_ elves..." She glanced behind to make sure they weren't being followed, although sensing that they were alone was enough reassurance for Oropher himself.

"Get on with it, Nlaea" Oropher huffed impatiently. There were, after all, more important things for him to attend to.

"They are branded. A strange crest I have never laid eyes on before. The mark was burned into the back of the red-haired elf"

"Evanna" Oropher clarified.

"...Yes... Her" Nlaea pursed her lips, not wanted to entirely accept the fact that those elves were possibly her own kin.

"What shape was it?"

"A serpents head. There were words too. Written in many languages and scripts"

"Could you read any of them?"

"There was some Nandorin tengwar. It said 'Bringers of Death'"

"Anything else?"

"No. Just this"

Oropher halted when they reached the bottom of the staircase.

"Thank you for this information, Nlaea. However, it would be best suited if Thranduil was informed. I have to leave the palace soon. Preferably tonight."

"For what, my King?" Nlaea queried.

"Our army is required in the East. I will take my legion and leave the King's guard here to protect the realm"

Nlaea's eyes widened in disbelief. "But why!? Our whole army!?"

"Gil-Galad himself requested for me. There is no other alternative I'm afraid. Anyway, I am sure my King's guard is capable of keeping the Greenwood under control - even without me" Oropher sighed.

"I must inform Thranduil of this development. I'm sure he won't be too happy about it... Nlaea, send messengers to all the outposts in the Greenwood. Every warrior will be summoned. We march for the East tonight" The finality in Oropher's voice gave Nlaea a grim feeling.

"Yes, my King" She bowed, shocked by his sudden revelation.

When she raised her head, he had already disappeared.

* * *

Thranduil awoke well before dawn. He usually got up at or after dawn, but for some reason he was unable to sleep soundly through the night. He hadn't slept particularly late, maybe two hours after the midnight hour or so? It wasn't as if elves needed much sleep anyway.

Despite waking up so early, he didn't bother getting out of bed until at least an hour past dawn. There wasn't anything very pressing to attend to, and more than half the palace was still asleep after the late hour of last night's party, so he saw no need to rush.

The King was not particularly interested in whether or not his son was presentable when he barged into his room.

* * *

Thranduil propped himself up on his elbows and scrunched his eyes a few times to get rid of the sleep when he heard the door latch click without a preceding knock. It was definitely one of his parents. Or Verona.

The door opened and closed in a moment. Thranduil father stood tall and serious before him.

"Good morning, father. You don't look very pleased this morning..." Thranduil nearly yawned, but quickly stifled it as his father's expression grew grim.

Oropher's mouth became a thin, pensive line.

"Thranduil, I am leaving for war in the East"

Almost immediately Thranduil sat up straighter. Unable to believe his ears, he replied incredulously, "What!? War!? Shouldn't there have been some envoy!?"

Thranduil threw the bed covers off his half naked body and began pacing the room. He ran a hand through his hair every few paces - something he seemed to be doing quite often lately.

It took him a while to formulate an objective statement.

"Which forces will we take with us? Who will remain here?" His voice was surprisingly levelled. Oropher was slightly impressed with how efficiently he masked his concerns.

"There is no _we. I_ will go, along with our main force. The entire King's Guard, including most of the Elven Guard will remain here. I will choose a few capable warriors to join me in the fray. And before you begin an outburst, let me tell you that there was, in fact, an envoy, that came _last night_ , and if you were anywhere in sight I would have asked you to join me when I spoke with them" Oropher's voice became gradually more commanding and slightly castigating as he reached the end of his speech.

Thranduil was at a loss for words, feeling almost ashamed of having left the party to follow Azriel.

 _Again, her!_ Thranduil's jaw tightened.

"Thranduil, this war is huge. The Last Alliance of Elves and Men needs our forces to assure a victory. We cannot let the darkness in the East spread further. You, better than anyone in this palace, know what is at stake if I refuse Gil-Galad"

There was a pregnant pause before Thranduil spoke. "I... I understand. When will you leave?"

"Later today. I have already sent word to the farthest ends of the Greenwood. All outlying forces are to return to prepare for the long march East"

"Good. Is mother in charge while you're gone?"

"That decision rests with her" The strange sense of finality in Oropher's voice made Thranduil knit his eyebrows in confusion for a moment.

"Okay. Is there anything I have to do?"

"You can see us off, if you like..."

"Of course. May the Valar be with you throughout"

Thranduil pressed his hand against his chest and released it, the customary salutation between elves - especially father and son. Oropher mimicked him, and as he did so, Thranduil's jaw clenched. He wanted to yell at his father, urge him to stay, to teach him more before leaving. To give some guarantee that he would return. But of course, he could ask for none of that. His father had left for war once before, but at the time Thranduil had only known that he'd left _after_ he had returned to the Greenwood, with a large part of his forces still intact.

He could only pray that this time would be the same.

* * *

Azriel woke with a start. Her hand reached out and grasped at thin air as she shot up. She gulped in lungfuls of the damp morning air, collecting her wits.

 _I wasn't alone..._

She looked to her side and found Evanna still sound asleep. Azriel bit her lip and cursed silently at her outburst. Evanna wasn't at all a morning person, no matter how hard she tried to be.

Azriel pinched the bridge of her nose as she recalled last night briefly - How the Prince had followed her, and how she had asked him to stay till Evanna came...

 _God. He saw me in that state!_ Azriel swore under her breath in dwarvish as she threw the covers off of her.

It was her preferred tongue after the elvish dialects - mostly because it had a whole array of curses which had no translatable meanings in any other language.

Evanna had seen fit not to bother dressing Azriel for bed, and had instead simply removed her dress, corset and all, and slipped a sheer chemise on her. A cool breeze blew through the open window, but Azriel couldn't feel it's chill at all.

She closed her eyes as her wandering hands traversed the unnatural contours and dips and deviations in her skin. From her sternum her fingers traced a line to her collar bones and neck and then to the edge of her shoulders. These bruises, these scars. So familiar. Entirely hers.

She pressed her hands together, indulging in the smooth skin that no other part of her body adorned.

The latch on the door clicked, and Azriel was jerked from her trance.

Her hands yanked the covers up to her neck so that not a single inch of skin could be seen apart from her face and hands. She sank as low as she could and slowed her breathing just enough to give the imitation of one at rest.

 _Don't people knock in this realm? What kind of elves have been raised here!?_ She scoffed inwardly, remembering how Thranduil hadn't knocked before he entered her room the night before.

As a figure stepped through the doorway to probable death, Azriel's senses heightened.

 _Who... ?_

* * *

Azriel peeked through half lidded eyes at the intruder. It was a thin elvish woman. She approached the bedside tentatively, obviously unsure about what to do next. Her lips pursed and her eyes darted around, trying to focus on anything but the two vulnerable elves.

Well, she seemed to think they _looked_ vulnerable.

Finally, the she-elf sat on Azriel's side of the bed - closer to her face than Azriel would have liked. However tempted Azriel was to strike, she suppressed herself, waiting to see what would happen next.

Surprisingly, the curious she-elf was content with just staring intently at the two, but mostly at Azriel, which unnerved her. Although she couldn't directly see the other elf, she could feel her intense gaze.

 _What do you want?_ Azriel was tempted to shift slightly in order to startle the elf, but decided against it when the elf began to speak.

"Lianna" She whispered. Azriel's jaw clenched with fury at the use of her long forgotten name.

 _No. No. NO._ She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, over and over, "NO!", but she remained content with closing her fingers into tight fists, hidden away underneath the covers.

Azriel felt a hand sway above her and settle on her hair. This time, she didn't suppress herself.

Her hand shot out from under the covers and grabbed the she-elf's wrist with such raw power that an audible crack was heard. She lifted her head from the pillow and faced the elf with fiery eyes. The elf's hand was becoming whiter as Azriel's death grip tightened.

She was slender and petite, with straight, light brown hair. Her wide crystal blue eyes expressed heightening fear. She grimaced in pain as a bone in her wrist shifted.

 _Good._

"I. Am. Not. Her" Azriel's every word was clipped with pure bitterness towards the she-elf.

The two stared each other down for an eternity before Azriel finally let go. The she-elf immediately recoiled and stumbled as she pushed herself away from the bed. Without another word, she bolted for the door.

Once the room had filled with still silence once more, Azriel took a deep breath.

There was no mistaking those eyes.

That elf was her mother.

* * *

Later that day Azriel and Evanna learned that King Oropher was leaving for war in the East. It had been known to them for quite some time that the Last Alliance of Elves and Men required large amounts of reinforcements if they wished to be victorious against the Darkness in the East - however they did not anticipate that the elves of the Woodland Realm would be asked to sacrifice for the cause.

It was slightly inconvenient, but it also kept most of the attention away from them.

The two elves watched as the King said his brief goodbyes - to the Queen and the Prince. Both of them looked sombre as he bade them farewell. The King's Guard and the Elven Guard were to stay behind, according to Oropher's orders. Many of the nobles had also gathered to bid their King a safe journey and a victorious battle.

Azriel glanced at Evanna, remembering how her mother had decided to pay them an unexpected visit that morning. She still hadn't told Evanna about it, and wasn't planning to at all. However, it would be slightly problematic if the other elves started to notice that something was off with their pretty little 'Lianna'. At some point, Azriel would probably _have_ to develop a closer relationship with her mother.

But as of now, that was not important.

Evanna, meanwhile, had caught her mother's eye, and left Azriel's side momentarily to converse with her.

"Mother" She nodded. Azriel bit her lip as she eavesdropped on their conversation, slightly perturbed but also impressed by how easily the word came out of Evanna's mouth. Seamless. A perfect deception.

"Evanna" Vestele bowed her head solemnly. She had suppressed her normally bubbly personality to suit the serious occasion.

"Mother, I..." Evanna bit her lip, looking for the words to articulate herself with. "...I am sorry"

"Sorry? For what?" Vestele's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"...I know you wanted us - Me, you, Az-" Evanna cleared her throat mid-sentence to disguise the error. "-Lianna, and Lady Nithroel - to be a perfect family; to be how we would have been if the two of us hadn't been taken away all those years ago... But... I can't promise that we will be the family you dreamed of..."

 _So... Nithroel is her name..._ Azriel occupied herself with her own thoughts for a moment.

"Ah, my dear Evanna. I never dreamed that a day would come when I could see you again. We do not have to be a perfect family. Just an ordinary family is good enough for me. Quarrels and all..." Vestele's eyes were watering now, and Evanna didn't know what to say to make her feel better.

After a while, she smiled brightly at her mother. "I... I will do my best. And so will Lianna"

Vestele smiled with equal mirth back at her, and just then, the trumpets sounded, signalling the departure of the troops from the palace.

Everyone present in the entrance hall looked towards the grand doors as they opened, and out marched the elven forces, with Oropher at their head.

Azriel glanced at Thranduil, who was standing on a step with his mother by his side, slightly above the rest of the crowd.

Her breath hitched when she saw that his eyes were sparkling with tears, and his mother's were too.

 _Oh, what hell war brings upon us..._

* * *

 **AAhhhhhhhhhh so I tried REALLY hard to incorporate some canon content into this (LAoEaM) but idk if I was accurate or not... idk anything about dates btw. Just saying.**

 **Anyway, hope you liked this chapter somewhat...**

 **See y'all soon hopefully!**


	12. Broken Bows, Broken Swords I

**BROKEN BOWS, BROKEN SWORDS**

* * *

The morning after the King's departure was deathly quiet.

The servants silently tended to their duties; the nobles lingered in the gardens, some remained in their chambers; and one of the two prodigal elves stalked the halls with curiosity.

All was quiet; still.

Save for the distant echoes of clashing swords.

Azriel lingered by a corner, listening intently. Someone was training. She knew it was no serious match from the reverberations of the steel. A true fight would emit a far more furious sound.

Azriel fiddled with her collar and sleeves - full - paranoid about revealing even an inch of skin. Her dress was a dusky grey straight cut. Sleek. Simple. She had not bothered to dress up - since there was no particular occasion demanding it. She ran a hand through her silky golden tresses after she was satisfied.

 _Mmmm._ She closed her eyes and smiled, letting the sounds of the battle lull her. This was the music she was accustomed to dancing to. And she could dance for hours on end.

Her feet moved of their own accord, leading the rest of her to the source. Her fingers tensed and curled, itching for a blade. Finally she reached a vast secluded hall. The ceiling curved into a dome leagues above her, the height nearly dizzying. In the centre of the room stood Thranduil, holding a bow in one hand and a dagger in the other, and another elf - a pair of knives being her chosen weapon.

Without making her presence known, Azriel observed the two elves as they commenced their fighting once more.

Thranduil strung his bow with inhuman speed - his dagger still in the grip of his drawing hand - and released it at the she-elf. Azriel scrutinized her, finding her face vaguely familiar.

 _Oh! She is the one who tended to Evanna and I the night of the grand celebration!_ Azriel's brow furrowed. _Why would she be training with the Prince?_

Turning her attention back to the fight, she saw that the arrow Thranduil had released was a mere distraction. His bow hand changed grip and turned the bow into a kind of shield as his dagger hand sprung into action. Azriel took a moment to size him up next to Evanna's close combat technique with the bow. She pursed her lips to stop a smile. His skill was impish compared to Evanna's use of archery. - in fact, Azriel was not even sure why she bothered comparing the two.

The she-elf, meanwhile, dodged with practised movements. Her brow was knitted in concentration, focused on predicting each and every thrust, how far, how wide. Each and every movement was calculated.

 _How many hours she must have practised to gain that skill..._ Azriel mused. She suddenly bit her lip and tensed as a crucial second passed.

The she-elf faltered, and Thranduil took the opening, pinning her to the ground with his bow. He stood up almost immediately and stepped back to his starting position opposite the she-elf.

"Nlaea, concentrate". This time, Thranduil put his bow down and pulled out two twin daggers - almost identical to the ones he had fought Azriel with.

 _Ah... Nlaea..._ Azriel folded her arms and watched them as their blades met once more.

Thranduil had a flawless technique, as did Nlaea - however Azriel's keen eye was able to discern even the slightest errors in footing, offence, defence, and execution. Here and there, she saw Thranduil's footing falter; Nlaea's eyes deviating to the walls more than once; Thranduil's hair frequently blocking his view as he spun away from an attack; Nlaea leaving her guard open far too many times; and Thranduil failing to strike in the openings she had so conveniently given him...

 _So many flaws..._

To her credit, Nlaea managed to disarm Thranduil, but he simply pulled out another identical dagger and began using those same, graceful, fluid movements he had employed against Azriel herself to retake his offensive. Nlaea once again, flexed her muscles and twisted, dodging each blow with calculated efficiency. Forced muscle memory.

 _The worst kind..._ Azriel flexed her fingers again, restless for the touch of cold steel against her skin.

Suddenly, the two were in extremely close range, and Thranduil was forced to discard his bow completely. Thranduil grabbed the she-elf's wrists in a vice-grip, and for a silent moment they struggled against each other's force. Thranduil glanced up and his eyes fell upon the silent Azriel, leaning against a doorway. His grip faltered for a split second and the silence was broken by a blade smashing into Thranduil's chest plate.

The sound of steel on steel resonated for several seconds before echoing against the domed ceiling. When it finally dissipated, Nlaea followed Thranduil's gaze to where Azriel stood - still keenly observing them with her resplendent crystal eyes.

"Nlaea please-" Thranduil replaced his daggers in their sheaths and tore his gaze from Azriel.

"You have commendable skill." Azriel interrupted. "...Both of you" She added after a moment.

Nlaea couldn't stop herself from beaming, but Thranduil remained placid. Or at least, he tried to.

"...However" Azriel walked to Thranduil's abandoned bow and picked it up. "Your execution is terrible. As is your choice of weapon, Prince Thranduil" She twirled the bow in her hands casually, inspecting the carvings.

"Nlaea, leave us"

Both Azriel's and Nlaea's eyes widened in surprise. Nlaea nearly gaped at Thranduil. She bit her lip and began to utter protests, but Thranduil put up his hand to silence her.

"Just go" He emitted, the effects of adrenaline finally wearing off. Fatigue enveloped him as he watched Nlaea stride out of the room.

"What do you mean" He turned back to Azriel, who was still inspecting the bow, this time with more interest.

"Mmm?" She raised an eyebrow, despite knowing exactly what he was referring to.

"Explain. Why do you think my execution is flawed?" Thranduil asked. Azriel let her eyes flutter closed as she memorized the sound of his voice. Deep. Pure. Unmistakable.

She frowned. _Why did I do that?_

"Azriel" Thranduil's voice brought her back to earth.

She smiled sardonically. "You've finally learned my name" All at once her hand tightened around the bow and swung it like a sword at Thranduil. Despite his arm blocking reflexively, he nearly fell over backward - from the surprise, and the sheer force of the blow.

"Good reflex. Poor transition" She intoned.

She brought the bow to her side and took several strides back. "A bow is good for many things, not just shooting arrows. But you know that already..." She let the bow drop to the ground.

Thranduil flinched at the cracking sound of marble meeting wood. If not for its quality, it would have shattered.

"If you take me to where you're hiding my weapons, I can show you which one would suit you..."

"No" Thranduil's reply was immediate. Without hesitation.

"It's not like I can escape with just brute force." Azriel chuckled. "Besides, who would want to leave a place like this" She stared at the domed ceiling for a moment, and then glanced at Thranduil.

"Are you going to explain yourself, or do I have to beat it out of you?" Thranduil ran a hand through his hair in annoyance.

"I wonder... why are you suddenly so interested in what I have to say?" Azriel tilted her head to one side like an curious child, completely ignoring his threat.

"You are a warrior just as I am. My dislike towards you does not prevent me from seeing that" He shrugged, as if it were obvious that he held that much respect for her. For a moment she had no words to throw back at him.

She smiled to hide her surprise. "At least you are explicit about your feelings... Anyway, about you..." She took a moment to recollect everything she had seen between the exchange between Nlaea and him.

"Theoretically there was nothing wrong with the way you were fighting. In fact, comparing your technique to any well seasoned elven warrior, it would be considered perfect. However, despite being an effective way to fight... it is not the most effective way to necessarily _win_ " She explained. Thranduil stared at her, surprised by her articulation. Azriel smoothed her bodice before continuing.

"The Elven ways of war and combat are something of a tradition... Grace and honour and all that. I do not mean to offend, but Elvish combat is extremely flawed..." She paused to see if Thranduil was still paying attention.

He was.

"Pray tell" His voice was edged with curiosity, which scared him slightly. Here was someone openly slandering the Ways of the Elves, and he actually _wanted_ to listen to her.

"I could speak for hours on this, you know. But basically, elves use very limited hand-to-hand close combat, they have ineffective execution, and too much _honour_ " The last word dripped with sarcasm.

Thranduil was intrigued. "Care to elaborate?" Azriel sighed and sagged her shoulders.

"How tedious..." She mumbled. "Elves are trained with weapons before they are trained with their own two hands. That's why without a weapon most elves become ineffective fighters - also partly because elves are slim and petite compared to most other creatures... Shall I continue?" She raised an eyebrow at him. He nodded.

"...Their execution is ineffective because they spend too much time..." She grasped for a word, "... Being... Graceful. To put it simply"

Thranduil's eyebrows knitted. "What does that have to do with poor execution?"

"Everything!" Azriel exclaimed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You self-important oafs spend so much time spinning and turning and _dancing_ that you lose valuable seconds which can determine the outcome of a battle!"

"Spinning creates a stronger force, you idiot!" Thranduil nearly laughed at her logic.

"You _think_ that because that is what you were taught. While you're spinning around trying to create momentum, your opponent has a gargantuan opening laid out in front of them to take advantage of. If I were in Nlaea's place I could have stabbed you at least a dozen times before you had the brains to come in close and grab me" Azriel's voice wrung with authority.

Thranduil felt the vein in his forehead throb slightly. _How dare she..._

"And the last bit, about your honour... Elves, they never cheat. They are never willing to play dirty. Never willing to sacrifice"

 _Why does she say_ your _as if she is apart from us..._

"What about when I stabbed you? Wasn't that 'playing dirty'?" Thranduil surprised them both with his question.

"You mean in the Greenwood?" Azriel clarified.

"Yes. Then..." Thranduil gave it a moments thought. He had thrown his knives at her while she was distracted by the appearance of the King's Guard, leading to a narrow victory.

"No. It would have been playing dirty if you had finished me off then and there" She shrugged simply. "But, there's no honour in outright murder, is there?" She tilted her head to the side and gave Thranduil a wry smile full of knowing.

Thranduil bit his lip to stop his outburst. _Why do I even need her approval regarding this..._ He huffed audibly and Azriel raised an eyebrow in question.

"Did I bore you?"

"No, it isn't that. It's..." _You_ He was going to say.

 _What is it with you..._ He bit his lip again and squinted at her. _What is it..._ Azriel's lucent marine eyes held him for a moment. His breath hitched and his eyes immediately darted. _With you..._

His face contorted into a scowl. "Tch. Never mind" He muttered, mostly to himself, as he turned to leave. His bow remained on the floor by Azriel's side.

Azriel frowned. _What is his problem?_

"Ah... by the way, Prince" She called after him just before he reached the door. "You should consider keeping your hair tied when you train. You may die if it gets in your way"

Thranduil snapped to attention. _A threat?_

"Anyway, you should also remove your clothes. It is extremely effective in increasing efficiency"

Thranduil nearly gaped. _Remove my... What even is this..._

He absorbed her words completely and _almost_ laughed out loud. "Is that not simply an excuse?" He smirked and raised a knowing eyebrow at her.

"Hm? An excuse for what exactly?" Azriel challenged, crossing her arms.

"Seeing me shirtless, of course" He quipped.

For a moment, they stood silent.

And then Azriel emitted the most inelegant sound of cackling that Thranduil had ever heard.

* * *

Azriel had to clamp both hands over her mouth to stifle her violent bout of laughter. When she had finally recovered, gasping for breath, giggles still escaped her lips intermittently.

"Ah. Ha. ha. Ah ha ha." She was completely breathless. "...Oh my, Prince Thranduil..." Her voice suddenly dripped with allure and his name came out of her mouth with such latent promise that Thranduil's breath _nearly_ hitched _again_.

Just _nearly_.

To his surprise, yet again, she closed the distance between them - an undecipherable expression on her face. She stopped when they were about half an arms length from each other. She tilted her head and appeared to study him. Thranduil felt the blood inside him pulsing.

"I'm sure you are indeed a sight worth seeing..." She smirked. "... After all, what prince _isn't_?" She chuckled softly and surprised him by reaching out and patting his cheek.

In that moment every coherent thought in Thranduil's mind evaded him. _What did she just do... ?_

Thranduil didn't think their encounter could get any more intimate until Azriel went a step further and dropped her hand to one of the knives secured at his belt.

"Nice knives" She tapped the pommel of the blade with a finger, but kept her unblinking eyes glued to Thranduil's. Suddenly they were impossibly close, and Thranduil's guard shot up. He wanted to break away from her piercing gaze, but at the same time didn't want to show any weakness.

 _What is your game..._

The moment passed, and Azriel left Thranduil standing in the centre of the hall, speechless. She took a moment to stop in the doorway, clenching and unclenching her fists at her sides. Her eyes sparkled when she looked back at him.

 _Unfortunately for you, I am... already promised..._ The corner of her lips quirked up in fondness of some secret memory, privy to none but her.

Thranduil's hands unconsciously wrapped around the hilt of the blade she had touched.

 _What is your game..._

She left, and only Thranduil's breath could stifle the silence.

* * *

 **So... this chapter was actually meant to be about 5k words long, but I didn't want to include TOO many fight scenes in the same chapter, so I'm writing those scenes in the next chapter.**

 **Hope you liked this one! Is anyone curious about who Aza is promised to!? REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!**


	13. Broken Bows, Broken Swords II

**This chapter will have some fight scenes! But don't worry, they'll be fun and awesome. I think I'm making Thranduil too reactive around Azriel. I need to make him more hostile, BUT IT'S SO HARD BECAUSE HE'S AN ADORABLE BUNNY RABBIT HELP.**

* * *

BROKEN BOWS, BROKEN SWORDS II

* * *

Some hours later Thranduil heard a commotion in one of the halls. There was loud yelling and merrymaking going on, but Thranduil had clearly not been informed about the occasion. He stopped a passing guard to inquire about it, but the guard had no idea. Thranduil followed the sounds of the rambunctious laughter and cheering till he reached the same hall he and Azriel had been in earlier. However, unlike before, it was filled to the brim with spectators. Something interesting was going on in the centre of the room.

Thranduil tapped the shoulder of one of the guards.

"What's going on? What's all the ruckus about?"

The guard snapped to attention. "Prince Thranduil. It is the returned ones, Lady Evanna and Lady Lianna. They were putting on a show for us"

Thranduil raised an eyebrow in question. "What sort of 'show' would that be?"

Suddenly an arm shot out of the crowd and pulled Thranduil through. The arm belonged to a short-haired elf with a build almost as broad as Thranduil's. It was his friend, probably one of his closest friends, Seravi.

"Thranduil you missed the show!" He said jovially, pushing through the crowd to the very front.

"What show exactly?"

"Evanna and Lianna were _duelling._ I'd never thought I'd see a lady in more of an element than one of us, but they were..." He didn't have the words.

Thranduil frowned, finally emerging from the crowd to see Evanna and Azriel in the centre of the room, kneeling on the ground with their weapons splayed around them. Thranduil counted four short knives, two broadswords, one bow, and a quiver of arrows.

 _What on earth..._

"God only knows where they learnt all that, wherever it is they were" Seravi quipped, bringing Thranduil back to reality.

"What is the meaning of all this? Why were they..." Thrandui's voice lost all authority. He was now more puzzled than angry.

Azriel and Evanna stood up and bowed to each other, and then raising their arms to the crowd, eliciting loud cheers all around. Thranduil noticed that there were only members of the Guard surrounding them. There was not a single noble in sight, nor a lady - other than the two standing in the centre of the room, of course.

Evanna caught his eye suddenly and smiled. Thranduil was speechless.

"Does anyone want to challenge?" She turned away from Thranduil and addressed the crowd. Azriel was busy collecting her weapons from the floor.

The crowd fell to hushes and whispers, and then silence.

"May I?" A clear voice sounded.

Thranduil recognized the owner immediately.

Nlaea.

* * *

Azriel scoffed inwardly when she saw who it was that had raised her hand. Outwardly, she couldn't help but smile. This was going to be _far_ too easy. She was actually hoping for a challenge, although fighting Evanna had exhausted her enough. It had been a long time since she'd fought an enemy worthy of her full strength. Or worthy of her own fear.

"Who will be your opponent?" Evanna asked, making the crowd mumble and whisper a little more than necessary.

Nlaea nodded towards Azriel, a grim but serious look on her face.

Evanna knew well before she had asked, of course. Nlaea was out for blood.

Thranduil watched in equal parts of horror, fascination, and fear when Nlaea took her stand in the centre of the hall, weighing her knives in her hands. Both Azriel and Nlaea had the same weapon of choice: Twin blades. Azriel's were the standard issue ones that all the members of the Guard used, while Nlaea's were crafted especially for her.

A thought dawned on Thranduil. "Where did they get weapons?" He nudged Seravi with his elbow, nodding to the weapons Evanna was holding.

"Me, of course. I didn't know what they were going to do with them so I followed them. And after they started I couldn't help but call the rest of the group.

"So this is _your_ doing?!" Thranduil heaved a sigh, surprised at his own surprise. Seravi was always up to these kinds of things. Him and Verona were a deadly combination.

"Oh _relax,_ Prince! Our warriors needed a little downtime ever since King Oropher skipped out on us"

"Watch your tone Seravi" Thranduil half-heartedly chided his friend, but to no avail. He wasn't going to stop using that disrespectful tone anytime soon.

He turned his attention back to the sight before him. The two warriors facing off against one another. Azriel had changed out of the grey dress she was wearing earlier that morning, and had on the classic suede-leather outfit made for the Guard - doubtlessly supplied by the ever-willing Seravi. Nlaea was actually wearing armour - she was probably on the morning patrol, so that gave her an advantage, albeit an unfair one. Thranduil was certain that it wouldn't slow Azriel down for even a second.

He couldn't have been more right.

* * *

Azriel wiped the sweat off her forehead and faced Nlaea with a stern expression. This would be easy, but she had to be careful not to make it _too_ simple a win for her, lest the elves become suspicious of her and Eva. She rolled her wrists, weighing her knives. They were basic and reasonably well-crafted, but nothing compared to her Orc steel blades. Nlaea held her knives loosely, warming up her mind and body for the little game.

Evanna stood between the two, waiting for words to be exchanged and bets to be made before putting her hand out. Azriel and Nlaea approached the centre and touched her hand with one of theirs before stepping back - a sign of respect between the duellers, as well as the moderator.

Evanna cleared her throat and lifted her hand, uttering the Sindarin word for commencing with a high and powerful voice. Nlaea snapped to attention, grip suddenly hardening around the hilts of her knives. Azriel on the other hand loosened her grip so that the blades swayed when she moved. Evanna quickly stepped back and away from the fighters.

Azriel stepped forward to meet Nlaea's blade, which came far too eagerly and quickly for a first calculated strike. Azriel knew that it wouldn't work against her. Careful calculation was both a boon and a bane. Azriel never considered it very useful in real-life situations.  
She weakened her block and let Nlaea push her, suddenly making her stumble. Azriel simply circled out of the movement fluidly.

 _This is how you spin_... She smiled and hoped that Thranduil was watching, so he could see what she meant.

As she turned she half spun half ducked under the attack from Nlaea she anticipated before thrusting her knife forward to Nlaea's abdomen. Nlaea was quick, and crossed her knives together to create a shield. Azriel pulled back quickly before Nlaea could cut her arms. The crowd was tense with silence, and only the sound of the knives echoed in the chamber.

Thranduil felt himself flinch whenever their knives made contact. He noticed the beads of perspiration dripping down the sides of Azriel's face, and the fatigue that slowed down her moves ever so slightly. Suddenly he was becoming concerned.

"We should stop this" He said to no one in particular. Seravi heard by simply being in close-quarters.

"What for..." He mumbled without giving Thranduil a glance, far too enchanted by the warriors before him. In his defence, so was everyone else.

Nlaea and Azriel became separated by a considerable distance suddenly. Thranduil watched them carefully and noticed a twitch in Azriel's face. She had run out of patience. Surprising everyone standing witness, she dropped her knives. The clattering sound echoed through the hall, ringing in Thranduil's ears. Azriel nonchalantly tossed her hair away from her face and walked towards Nlaea with no menace or purpose in her stride. This threw Nlaea off guard, but Thranduil knew something was coming.

Azriel was now only a few feet from the still confused Nlaea.

"Won't you strike?" Azriel stretched her arms out to her sides, all but giving herself up to Nlaea.

Nlaea frowned and started a movement to strike, but Azriel was lightning quick. She used the heel of her hand to knock Nlaea's first blade right out of her hand, and Nlaea struck out with the other almost immediately.

Thranduil's eyes widened in fear and his fingers flexed.

 _Move Azriel. Move._

But she didn't. Instead, Azriel's foot twisted from the position she was in and she fell under her own weight. This surprised Nlaea but she quickly turned the situation to her advantage and brought her knife to Azriel's neck, restraining her with her own body weight. The match was decided.

Nlaea was the victor. The crowd broke out into applause and cheers.

Nlaea stood up and held out her hand for her opponent. Azriel grudgingly took it and stood up. She brushed herself of dust and replaced her knives in their sheaths.

"Well done. I thought I would win" Azriel bowed and stepped back so Nlaea could be properly applauded.

Just then the main doors opened, and in the doorway stood the Queen. The elves all hushed in moments and began pouring out of the room through three different exits as soon as the Queen raised her eyebrow in question. Azriel and Eva didn't bother moving, and instead stood conversing in the middle of the hall. When Thranduil looked around Seravi was nowhere to be seen, so he too followed the main crowd out of the doors. Before turning into the side hall he gave one last glance to the two elves. It almost felt like longing when he tore his eyes away from them.

 _What are they?_

In the evening Thranduil found Azriel again, in the same chamber. She wasn't doing anything at all, just sitting on the floor and watching the ceiling. She seemed like a lost child, or one of the unsound maids who sometimes got lost in the Greenwood. He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms as he watched her. The slope of her nose and jaw, the curve of her frame through the dress she was wearing - nothing special that too, plain like the maids. It was elegant and graceful, so unlike her manner of speaking. It fascinated him.

She made a sudden movement, and for a second Thranduil thought he had been discovered, but she was simply leaning back to lay on the floor. Thranduil could see from where he was, the cut of the smile on her face broadening as she felt the cold chill of the marble seep into her skin.

It was like magic.

Thranduil did not want to disturb her in this vulnerable position. With a sigh he straightened up and made to turn away from the door, but was stopped by the sound of rustling skirts and a voice.

"It's impolite to stare. Especially when the object one is staring at is not aware that it is being stared at"

Suddenly the whole tranquil and peaceful image he had associated with her disappeared and was replaced by animosity and cynicism.

"You are not an object" He turned, and was surprised to see her standing only a few meters away, though before she was much further from him.

 _Had she known I was here the entire time?_

The thought made Thranduil involuntarily blush. To hide it he ran a hand through his hair and sighed with nonchalance.

"You want something" Azriel crossed her arms and searched his eyes to see if she was right. Of course, she was

Not wanting to confirm anything, Thranduil decided to change the subject. "You lost on purpose"

"I did" Azriel replied simply, and Thranduil was thrown off by her lack of evasion, which she normally enjoyed using against him.

"Why?"

She appeared to consider for a moment. Thranduil saw a glint in her crystal eyes. "To preserve her reputation? Her dignity? Her ego?" She looked at him, but he seemed dissatisfied.

"No"

Azriel smiled at his perceptiveness. "Okay. Which answer will satisfy you?"

"The truth"

She sighed and turned away from him, walking back to the centre of the chamber. "I don't know. I didn't want the burden that comes with victory"

Thranduil frowned, but understood. The notoriety was not ideal for her, someone who was still eyed with suspicion. Even by him.

"What do you want, then?" She turned back to him, putting her hands behind her back like an obedient child or servant.

All of a sudden he felt ridiculously small. "Teach me" He said, in as even a tone as possible. Azriel's eyebrows shot up.

"How forward. Teach you what? How to lose on purpose?" She scoffed and brought her hands back to her sides.

"You said our fighting is flawed. So show me how to fix it" He resisted the urge to step towards her, feeling it would be too earnest.

After consideration of the matter Azriel sighed, relenting. "If it will make you trust us, I will"

She moved to one of the pillars and from the side procured a sheathed broadsword almost more than half her height. She looked ridiculous holding it, but had no trouble lifting it above her head with ease.

"Use this" She threw the sheath to him effortlessly, and he caught it with just as much ease.

"Why not my bow?" Thranduil asked as he unsheathed the sword. It was from their armoury. "And where did you get this?"

"Your friend. The beautiful one with short hair. Serari?"

Thranduil was somehow struck when she called him beautiful.

 _Does she have a notion of beauty at all?_ Then he recalled her just before he'd tried to leave. Alone and beautiful.

"Seravi. He shouldn't have given it to you"

She smiled at some hidden memory. "All men fall before a beautiful woman who promises them something special"

Thranduil's eyes narrowed "What did you promise him?" He was surprised by how accusative his tone was, and in his mind immediately started rationalizing.

"A show" She shrugged and picked up another, shorter sword. "You should use the longsword because you are strong. The bow is a lighter tool meant for physically weaker elves who can't hold heavy weapons"

Thranduil felt more than insulted by her reference to bows as meant for the weak.

 _Her own comrade uses a bow. How dare she..._

But he didn't have the energy to retaliate.

"Do you want to practice with me?" She unsheathed her sword and made a practice swing. The sound of the air slicing in half resonated.

"Are you going to make me take my shirt off?" He quipped, twirling his sword from one hand to the other.

She smiled, showing her teeth for a moment. "Not unless you desire it. But tie your hair at least"

He laughed and put the sword down to pull his hair up and twist it into a knot. Before he could pick the sheath up again she stepped forward and made to strike. Thranduil started and crossed his arms to block, but surprisingly felt no pressure against them. She had stopped her knife edge mere inches from his arms. If she hadn't, they'd have been sliced clean off.

She straightened and opened her mouth to speak but he held up a hand to silence her. "Don't say anything" He grumbled as he unsheathed his sword and took his stance.

"Don't be too stiff" She tapped his blade with hers and took her own stance. "Just watch the blade. There is nothing but the blade. There is no you and there is no weapon. The weapon is simply an extension of you. You are it and it is you"

Thranduil smiled slightly. "You sound ridiculous"

"Learn or don't, prince" She quipped while feinting to one side to try and startle him, but he was perceptive enough to block. Azriel smiled and pushed harder, making him stumble.

They didn't waste another moment hesitating.

* * *

In a blitz of metal against metal Thranduil somehow lost his ended up locked in Azriel's grip. She pulled his head back, messing up his hair, and brought her mouth in line with his ear.

"You're dead" She whispered, relaxing her grip and stepping back. He shivered.

Thranduil swished the loose locks of hair away from his face. His sword arm was already tiring, but Azriel's was just getting warmed up. This made him unnecessarily bitter.

Without warning he sidestepped and made to strike her unsuspecting form, but Azriel ducked just in time and thrust her sword up at his unguarded throat.

"Dead"

Thranduil let out an exasperated sigh. "If I had my bow I could have blocked"

"The point isn't to block. It's to move to the next attack from your vulnerable position. Better than that, don't get in a vulnerable position in the first place. Grace and all that is secondary. Here, let me show you" She exchanged their swords before he could utter a word of refusal.

"Attack me. And remember that your sword isn't your only weapon" She extended her sword hand to challenge him. Thranduil made a mock swing to get used to the lighter blade, and then thrust forward.

She parried easily and kept her sides guarded with parallel swings. Thranduil was surprised by her ability to wield such a heavy blade so easily, but he didn't relent.

"Watch me" She hissed, striking quicker now, forcing Thranduil back. "Attack. Always attack" She struck hard enough for the ringing of the metal to reach his hand and make him hesitate. Energy surged through Azriel and despite her dress she jumped, leapt into the air, and struck down on Thranduil's blade. The weapon flew out of his hands and he fell from the sheer force of the strike.

"Dead" She mumbled, handing the broadsword back to Thranduil. She held out her hand, and he regarded it sceptically - to which she rolled her eyes.

"Where did you learn to wield such heavy weapons?" He asked, finally taking her hand.

Azriel bit her lip, taking a few steps back. She turned her back to him and several thoughts ran through her head at once.

 _Trust. He must trust us. We are going to stay in this place for a considerable amount of time. They must trust us. What honour is there..._

She scoffed at her own thoughts for a moment. _Honour? When have I cared for that?_

She turned her head and glanced at Thranduil, who was fixing a few stay locks of hair.

 _Honour... No. Trust. We need their trust._

"I learnt it from many teachers. Where I was taken" She answered him, eliciting a look of surprise.

"Where were you taken?"

She hesitated again, but then held out her sword. "Don't sway" She struck again, and Thranduil was pulled back into the battle mayhem.

While they came at each other, ceasing to tire, Thranduil asked again: " Where were you taken?"

"Home"

Thranduil stopped short, which allowed Azriel to completely disarm him.

"You're dead. Again. Use more power. And focus" She sighed and took her starting position again. "This is _not_ my home, Prince Thranduil"

"And that place, where they taught you all this? That is home?" He took his stance and they began again.

"Yes" Her answer rang with the strike of her blade on his.

"They why did you run away"

"I can't answer"

"Then tell me about that place. What is it called?"

"Not a place. An army" She found an opening and struck him. "Dead"

Thranduil barely smiled before getting up and ready again.

Now that she was opening up, he had to continue asking her questions if he wanted to find answers. "What army?"

"My comrades. My real family was that army. Our Legion was the strongest of them all, but well hidden"

"I can see they taught you well" His reply came with effort, as she was pushing him to his limit. His fingers slipped in that instant, and she was victorious again.

He held up his hand as soon as she opened her mouth to speak. "I get it, I'm dead"

She smiled. "Actually I was going to say that was a good round"

Thranduil was apprehensive, but took his stance again. "Your teachers taught you well"

"Yes. We started very young, and not with wooden swords like they use to teach men"

"That sounds unnecessarily difficult" He quipped.

"It was necessary. It made us strong" Her tone was accusative, though Thranduil hadn't challenged her.

"Was this an army of elves? How come we have never heard of them?"

"Partly elves, yes, but our leader was a man. And there were squadrons of others. Orcs, trolls, goblins, men, elves, dwarves. We all learned from each other. That is what made us strong"

Thranduil's sword arm went limp. Azriel frowned at his sudden move. "How could such a vast army be kept hidden?"

Azriel stood up straight and rolled her eyes. "The Legion was both weapon and executor. We were used, and we used. We served both ourselves and others when necessary. Your noble houses, elves, men, dwarves alike, would not know of us unless we wanted to be known"

"They" He said, heading to attack her.

"What?" She nearly forgot to block.

Thranduil struck again. "Not 'we'. They. You are not a part of that 'Legion' any longer"

Azriel's eyes flared and she stopped mid-strike. Her mouth twisted bitterly. "How dare you try to-"

"You're the ones who ran away" He scoffed and crossed his arms. "They have have been your home, your family, but you're here _now_. Right now you're running away from them"

Her eyes narrowed "How would you know what we are running from?"

Only after she had spoken did she realize she had already said too much.

Thranduil tried not to show a smile of victory. He knew what he would be researching later that night.

"It's not hard to infer, although you _do_ make it difficult"

"It's none of your concern"

"You're mistaken. You are from our bloodlines, so it is"

"Blood means nothing if there is no history behind it. You are not my family. That woman who birthed me, she is not my family"

"We don't have to be. But we will protect you nonetheless" Thranduil only half believed the words he was saying, taken from his father's ever expanding handbook of diplomatic methodology of negotiation.

Azriel was simultaneously shocked and annoyed. "Why?"

"Because that is the honourable thing to do. Because you are our blood"

She scoffed. "The ones I loved had more likeness to me than any of you, and there was no blood between us. Only heart"

"Then why run?" Thranduil finally asked the burning question.

"It's... none of your concern..." She bit back the rest of her sentence and swore in some dialect unknown to Thranduil.

"Keeping silent won't help either of us"

 _But you will. Just to be stubborn. An obstinate brat._

"It will make sure neither of us has anything to lose" She mumbled, sheathing her sword.

"Are we done?" Thranduil raised an eyebrow. He was exhausted, but he didn't want to show it.

"Overexertion won't help at this point" After a pause she sighed and unsheathed her blade again. "We can do one last round"

Counting briefly in his head, Thranduil had lost seventeen times and they had drawn four times.

 _This time... I'll play by_ your _rules, Azriel of The Legion._

They took their stances, and Thranduil made the first move to strike.

 _My sword isn't my only weapon._

He hit hard, and she responded by relenting and twisting into another offensive, but Thranduil anticipated and struck out with his forearm, aiming at her neck. She had no choice but to duck and swipe at Thranduil's leg. He blocked her kick with the blunt edge of his sword and jumped over her.

 _Don't spin. Grace is secondary._

He landed facing her and quickly jabbed so they weren't in close quarters. His arm was sore, so he switched hands.

 _Power. Focus._

Azriel took that moment to switch hands as well, and unlike Thranduil, who was right handed, both her hands were well trained. Thranduil inferred this from the confident look in her eye, which he promptly ignored.

 _Attack. Always attack. Is that what you taught me?_

They both anticipated each other and struck at the same time. The fight was going on in endless circles, one getting the upper hand and then losing it in a moment.

 _...No... Play dirty. The best way to win is to play dirty._

When they had a considerable distance between them Thranduil gripped his sword in both hands and raised it over his head, swinging it with all his strength straight at her. Azriel's eyes widened as the massive sword came spinning at her at light speed. She ducked, dodging it's edge by a hair's breath, and looked up again to meet Thranduil's attack.

But instead of attacking directly Thranduil grabbed her wrist and pulled her into close quarters. She jerked forward while trying to control her sword arm, bringing it forward to hit him with the blunt side. But before it could make its arc and meet its mark Thranduil yanked her even closer and brought his other hand up to her chin. Azriel's memory recorded every second in slowed time. He pulled her chin up and they locked eyes for a split second. Azriel's sword arm went slightly limp above her head, mid strike.

 _What is he doing?! What is happening?_

He pressed his thumb against her lip and brought their faces close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek.

 _No. Stop. Don't._

But her arm wasn't moving even though her mind was screaming for it to.

Suddenly everything stopped moving and Thranduil's hand slipped from her chin. Azriel stumbled and blinked, completely startled.

Thranduil slid his hand down her sword arm and quickly twisted her forearm to loosen the grip on her sword. Her fingers uncurled and he snatched her blade, twisted her around so her back was pressed against his front, and he brought the sword edge to her neck.

Leaning down to her ear, he waited a second before whispering.

"Dead"

* * *

 **Why was the end of this so awkward to write lmao.**

 **#DramaticFluffNoob**


	14. A Feast For An Army

A FEAST FOR AN ARMY

* * *

Azriel was not amused.

She had been so easily thrown off by the Prince's dirty move that she was beginning to question her ability to maintain her composure around him - something that usually came easily to her. There was a reason for it, of course. She hadn't expected him to ever employ such a tactic, especially not with her.

But he had, and here they were.

Thranduil, of course, had smirked and stepped away immediately before Azriel's rage had time to manifest. She had been utterly humiliated, but being her, refused to show even a twitch of the mouth.

"That was well played"

And they left each other at that.

* * *

The dawn of the next day held something intriguing in its light. Almost taunting the girls as they woke up. With one look they knew that something special was going to happen today. After dressing up into light, simple gowns - full sleeved for Aza, Evanna and Aza walked arm in arm to the grand courtyard, where the other ladies were enjoying the morning air. This was not their destination, but there was a purpose in walking through there. All eyes were on them as they sauntered through the garden, though they weren't trying to attract attention to themselves. The sense of presence they had felt strange and disconcerting to both of them, as they were used to being only with each other. When they finally crossed through the main courtyard, and into one of the smaller gardens, both of them sighed with relief.

"They all watch us like they have nothing better to do" Azriel huffed, sweeping her dress skirts.

"That's because they really don't have anything better to do" Evanna laughed, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.

Azriel couldn't help but smile at the joke. "Very true"

They settled into a comfortable silence as they began walking again. Evanna casually twirled her hair. "Where do you think the Prince would be at this time?"

Azriel resisted the urge to smack her on the head. "How would I know"

"I was sure you'd be following his every move after that stunt he pulled, is all" Evanna held back a laugh, smiling broadly.

"I'm sure I'd have ripped his eyes from their sockets if I'd seen him afterwards" Azriel blew a stray hair from her face and turned her chin up.

"I think it's good"

Azriel frowned. "What is?"

"You acting that way with him. He will trust you more if you are overt"

"He may also _imprison_ me if I try anything"

"It's not as if-" Evanna's thoughts abruptly left her and she stopped in her tracks. Azriel widened her eyes and immediately put herself on her guard.

"What is it?"

Evanna closed her eyes and breathed deeply "Can't you smell it?"

Azriel followed suit, inhaling and exhaling slowly. Sure enough, she sensed what Evanna had.

 _What on earth..._

"It's coming from there" Evanna pointed, and soon enough they were both off.

* * *

Guided by their noses they entered the kitchens from a side entrance normally used by servants.

They had never seen so much food in one place. The cooks and maids went about the morning business of preparing breakfast for the nobles, and paused to bow to them because continuing with their work. Some of them did not even notice the two noble elves walking around. Compared to the rest of the palace the kitchens were constantly bustling and alive with energy. It felt refreshing.

Azriel marvelled at the sheer number and types of knives hanging on the walls. She occasionally asked about them, but soon realized that the servants were too busy to deal with questions in the middle of their work. Evanna on the other hand was dazzled by the preparation of the confectionery and the colourful fruits.

"Aza, can you catch this?" Evanna picked up a bunch of grapes and plucked one from it, holding it up between two fingers.

Azriel raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth experimentally. Evanna threw the grape across the gap between them - a good four meters - and Azriel jumped to catch the grape between her lips.

"It seems I can" She said, smiling, after crunching and swallowing the grape.

Evanna plucked a grape and ate one herself, pursing her lips at the tangy taste. She put the bunch down and picked up two oranges, weighing them in her hands while considering.

"You don't have your sword, do you?"

Azriel shook her head, spinning on her heel to survey the wall of knives again. She spotted a fairly long, broad blade - probably used for cutting tough meat. She picked it off the wall and turned it to reflect the light. It shone brilliantly.

"Will this do?" Azriel spun the blade a few times to get used to the lightness.

"It ought to" Evanna took a few steps back, allowing some passing maids to get through unhindered.

She closed one eye and held out an orange in front of her, and then smiled when she found a good position. Azriel crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently, wondering exactly what Evanna was trying to do. Without warning she suddenly pulled back her arm and threw the orange with all her strength towards Azriel. Her eyes widened and immediately her sword arm shot up to block it.

The orange neatly sliced itself into two along Azriel's knife. The pieces fell to the ground, and a few drops of juice dripped down the blade edge. Azriel picked up one of the pieces and squeezed it, licking the juice from the cut portion. It tasted divine.

While she was still sucking on the orange, Evanna threw the other one at her with a playful jump. Azriel cut it in half without even turning an inch.

"Is this really that amusing?"

"It will be till I hit you" Evanna chuckled and scouted the fruit basket for something more interesting. She picked up a pear and a grapefruit.

"How would these fair?"

Azriel took her stance, holding the knife out in front of her. "Bring it on"

* * *

The noisy atmosphere didn't faze her at all. Evanna threw one fruit after the next, and Azriel cut them all, not a single piece hitting her or staining her gown.

"I can do this all day Eva" Azriel laughed as she sliced a watermelon headed straight for her head. The red juice sprayed over her dress skirts, almost like blood.

Evanna pouted and picked up a small round plum, getting ready to throw it. Just before it left her grip a scream erupted from somewhere behind her. She looked over her shoulder to find a shaken maid, covering her mouth in shock.

"What have you done!" She exclaimed, running toward the now almost empty fruit basket. She looked from Evanna to Azriel across from her, and her eyes fell to the mess of fruit pieces littering the floor.

"What is all this noise about?" A deep voice sounded from behind Azriel. She turned to find herself standing face to face with the Prince himself.

Evanna bit her lip to stop a laugh, and before she had a second thought she threw the plum straight at Azriel's head.

It hit her.

"Got you!" Evanna raised her arms and jumped.

"Good morning Prince Thranduil" Azriel bowed, ignoring Evanna completely. "What brings you to this part of the palace?" To hide her surprise she forced a level tone.

"What do you think you are doing" He eyed her and then the mess at her feet.

Azriel looked over her shoulder to Evanna, begging for release.

"Your highness, forgive us" Evanna pulled Azriel back and bowed.

"Prince Thranduil, you mustn't run off like that!" A voice sounded from somewhere behind Thranduil.

Two elves came up behind Thranduil. They pulled up their skirts when she saw the mess of fruits staining the floor.

"What is this!? What happened!?"

When Evanna looked up she was dismayed to find herself face to face with Nithroel and Vestele.

* * *

"You really caused a ruckus. I understand you are not used to this place yet, but please be more careful" Nithroel put her hand on Azriel's shoulder as she guided her out of the kitchens. Evanna was being escorted by her mother. Thranduil had stayed behind.

"We didn't know" Azriel raised her shoulders slightly and shifted.

"I understand" Nithroel understood her body language and immediately lifted her hand. "You and Evanna are quite lucky the Prince didn't severely reprimand you"

Azriel kept her eyes fixed forward, saying nothing.

"He seems to like you both"

Azriel frowned. "Why do you think so?"

"He seemed more amused than angry when he saw you. Usually he always erupts for every little thing"

"I must be quite special, then" Azriel half smiled. It was amusing to think that she gave amusement to someone normally bitter. Ironic even.

Nithroel glanced at Azriel's gown, eyes widening as her gaze reached the floor. "Your skirts are all stained!"

Azriel stopped and swished her skirts, eyeing them without a care. "So it seems". She continued walking.

Nithroel touched her elbow to guide her down another hall. "Let us fetch a fresh one"

Azriel didn't resist at first, but the thought of having to spend another minute with this person didn't bode well with her. She shook off Nithroel's hand and turned to face her.

"Lady Nithroel, I understand your feelings but I would prefer to continue alone"

Nithroel was taken aback. "I- Of course" She stepped back and awkwardly brought her hands to her sides. Azriel could see the conflicted feelings in her eyes as clear as day.

She hesitated before spinning on her heel and continuing down the hall. She turned a corner and then waited. Her heart felt heavy for a moment, but the weight eventually lifted and she could breathe again.

* * *

After being lectured by her mother, Evanna found herself aimlessly walking through the palace. The winding halls eventually led Evanna outside once again. She found a flat stone and sat down, spreading out her dress over the grass and pebbles.

 _What do people even do around here..._

She sighed and stretched herself across the rock, spreading her arms and legs. If she closed her eyes and slowed her breathing she could hear distant sounds of the forest surrounding the palace. Birds and insects, beasts and elves. It was a soothing sound. It meant she was not alone.

"Lady Evanna?"

Evanna took a moment to respond. Her eyes opened lazily and she peered up at the figure standing above her. He was characteristically un-elf like, with broad shoulders, dark eyes, and short hair. He was beautiful.

"Should I address you by name or title or both?"

The elf smiled. "Your status is leagues above mine, Lady. I think I shouldn't even have the pleasure of being addressed by you at all"

Evanna inwardly laughed. _He thinks he's such a great flirt..._

"Seravi" She smiled and sat up. "Would you like to join me?"

Seravi seemed to be at a loss for words. Finally he sat down beside her. "Were you really just laying here by yourself?"

"Well, it's not like there is anything better to do here"

Seravi was struggling not to laugh. "Are you always so bold in your manner, Lady Evanna?"

"Not as much as Lia" The name flowed off her tongue as naturally as 'Aza' would have. She felt guilty for a moment, but the feeling passed.

"And where is Lady Lianna at this time?" Seravi hadn't been able to take his eyes off her since he spotted her. She was dazzling and brilliant in the light. Her hair was the rarest colour among elves - deep red. Not the orangey-red of the sun, but the pure red of blood and roses.

Eva sighed. "I lost her"

"How?"

"We were in the kitchen and the Prince came and ruined our fun. Lady Nithroel and Lady-" Evanna's mind blanked out before she caught her thoughts. "...Lady Nithroel and my mother were also there"

Seravi laughed "Thranduil likes ruining everyone's fun. He doesn't even have a reason. Even if he himself is enjoying something he will find a way to restrain himself from having _too_ much fun"

Evanna laughed, even louder than Seravi had. "How can you speak so openly about him?"

"We are very close friends, though my status is lower than his"

Evanna nodded in understanding. "Thank you for lending us those weapons, by the way"

"It was my pleasure, of course. Although Thranduil was rather unamused"

Evanna smiled at that. "He seems to always have some fight to pick with us. Especially Lianna"

"Yes. He talks about her quite frequently" Seravi quipped. Evanna's eyes widened in surprised.

"Why? Does she anger him?" Evanna knew quite well that Azriel was a force to be reckoned with, and that Thranduil had doubtlessly put up with her obstinate personality before. The extent to which this had contributed to making or breaking the foundation of their relationship was still to be determined.

"Hmm" Seravi tapped his finger on his lip as he considered. "Not entirely. I think more than angering him, she fascinates him"

This piqued Evanna's interest. She tried not to come off as too curious. "And why is that?"

Seravi gave her a half-smile, tilting his head as if patronizing her. "She is very surprising. He didn't tell me that directly, but from what he's told me _about_ her, I can deduce that much"

She was surprised. "He talks to you about her?"

"About most things that are on his mind"

"And what does he say?"

Seravi stood up and straightened the creases of his robe. "I'm afraid I can't reveal that. Perhaps you should ask him yourself" He reached his hand out to help her up.

"I think I will" She replied, taking it.

* * *

Azriel had been walking for ages, and she was quite certain she had been through the same hall twice before already.

She let out an exasperated yell. "This place is impossible!" She huffed and sat down on the hard wooden floor.

 _How can people live in such a place..._

She sighed and leaned against the wall, stretching her legs out in front of her. When she closed her eyes she could hear nothing at all. Not even that faint and distant buzz of nature just outside the palace walls. Not a single breath, or pulse. She was alone.

That meant she couldn't fall asleep.

But if she concentrated on the silence for long enough, she could imitate something akin to sleep. Not the dreamless sleep everyone eventually falls into, but the place between dreams and sleep, when you are still aware of reality.

She drifted for a moment, sighing. And it was silent again.

* * *

Verona strode through the halls briskly, heading to her chambers high in the palace. She felt quite special to have a room placed among the palace elite despite being of inferior birth. It was a side effect of being friends with the Prince, and being generally amiable towards the older nobles.

Without a care in the world she turned a corner...

And was altogether surprised when she stumbled over a pair of legs. She landed with a thud, almost hitting her head on the hard floor. Dazed, she lifted herself off the ground and dusted off her skirts. She turned and nearly jumped when she laid her eyes on the resting form of Thranduil's assailant, the returned elf Lianna.

"Lady Lianna?" She hazarded, tapping the resting she-elf's shoulder tentatively.

She opened her eyes slowly, as if waking from a thousand year slumber. Her marine eyes looked dull in the shadows, and void of all emotion. She looked utterly blank, and Verona was forced to step back to relax herself from the unnerving gaze.

"Are you all right?"

She continued staring blankly at Verona. Wordlessly, she lifted herself off the ground and straightened her skirts.

"Please don't use that name"

Verona was puzzled. "What name?"

"I am Aza" When she looked back up at Verona her eyes seemed brighter. "And I am sorry"

"Sorry? About what?"

"Attacking you. It was all a misunderstanding. Me and Evanna, we are here in peace"

Verona was slightly taken aback. "I... Thank you" She relaxed her shoulders slightly.

After a seemingly awkward moment of silence Azriel offered her hand to Verona confidently.

Verona frowned, still puzzled. "Do you want me to kiss your hand?"

Azriel laughed. "It's a greeting" She took Verona's limp hand and fit it comfortably with hers. She shook three times and let go.

"Well, it's a rather odd greeting"

"Men use it to establish friendship"

Verona stepped back and became slightly guarded. "Are you trying to extend your friendship to me?"

Azriel turned her shoulders towards Verona so they stood on equal ground. "Yes, why not? Would you prefer something else?"

Verona was taken aback. "No... I just... You..." She grasped for words. "I can't understand you"

Azriel half-smiled. "Most can't"

"Why are you here?"

"Well I was resting... and then you tripped over me"

Verona shook her head. "No, I meant why are you in this palace. How did you get here? Why did you attack Prince Thranduil? And me?" Her voice began sounding more and more distressed with each word she spoke.

Azriel took a step towards her, not trying to come off as threatening - yet managing to do so. "We didn't come here on purpose. We didn't attack your Prince on purpose. It was all a coincidence"

Verona considered this silently for a while.

"But you are truly Nithroel's daughter. I can tell" Verona crossed her arms and regarded Azriel's face closely.

Azriel hesitated. "...I am"

"Aza..." Verona tried out the name. "It's nice. But what does it mean?"

Azriel thought for a while. "It has no meaning in the elven tongue"

Verona looked impressed and intrigued, and surprisingly became less guarded. She extended her hand towards Azriel, a decisive look on her face.

"I will accept your friendship if you will accept mine"

* * *

With Seravi's help Evanna was able to make her way back to her chambers without much trouble. To her surprise Azriel was already waiting there.

"Where were you?"

"In the garden" Evanna stretched and pulled off her shoes, flopping onto the bed. "Seravi gave me an idea for establishing ourselves"

"Seravi? He was the one who gave us those weapons" Azriel turned to look at Evanna, who was laying down. "What did he say?"

"We should play host" She craned her neck to look at Azriel. "Not a big party, but something fun. It will bring the right kind of notoriety"

Azriel turned away, musing for a while. "I think Verona can help us"

Evanna was slightly surprised. "She is the one we attacked. Isn't she Prince Thranduil's wife?"

"No. They're just friends. Although I expect there is some reason they are not more than that"

Evanna smiled, knowing that they both had the same thought. "You could see it too, couldn't you?"

Azriel nodded wordlessly. She had seen it many times before, when she and Evanna looked at one another. It was an unmistakable look, that glitter in one's eyes that the shadows cannot capture - one that only appeared when you looked at someone you truly loved.

Thranduil and Verona... they both had it for each other.

* * *

Later that evening word began spreading like wildfire among the elven gentry that there was to be a contest in the great hall. Details became more and more clear as the number of people flooding the hall increased. Even without anything actually happening at the moment they seemed to be bustling with excitement. It was all in the anticipation.

The side doors opened all of a sudden and maids began walking into the room in files, each one holding four or five bottles of liqueur. The assembled elves were fascinated.

The dragging of a chair across the floor had a strange effect of silencing all present.

Evanna turned the chair around and climbed on to it effortlessly, earning a few astonished looks from the elves below her.

"Welcome all gathered! Lianna and I invited you here today to participate in a competition of sorts, to symbolize our breaking bread with you all"

She waved a hand and the maids took their places along the long tables. With another wave they began filling up the glasses laid out in an apparently specific order. Soon the tables were glittering with colours of all sorts of different alcohols.

"We have tried to lay out as many places as possible. Will everyone please take a position wherever there is a glass?"

At first the elves remained in their places, not sure how to assemble. Gradually, after a few began to take places along the table, the rest followed like sheep, stealing glances at Evanna, standing tall atop her chair, every now and then. She had dressed up in a maroon dress for the occasion. The colour was almost exactly the same as her hair colour, yet not exactly. It made an observer look twice.

After everyone had assembled, Evanna raised her voice once more. "Everyone please listen to the instructions carefully. Lianna will be singing for you. While she is singing you will pick up the glass in front of you, and regardless of what is in it you will drink it until she stops singing. If your glass runs out of liqueur simply start with the one behind it"

Evanna regarded the faces of all those below her to see if they had understood. Most of them had an expression of excitement covering their faces - which she took as a sign of complete comprehension. She took a deep breath and raised her arms.

"Begin!"

* * *

Azriel started off with something slow and melodious, eliciting surprised from all present, including the maids who were on standby by the walls. Her voice was like liquid gold and frost.

When she stopped singing almost everyone forgot the purpose of the game, forcing Evanna to snap them all out of it by yelling.

The elves do not sing very explicit songs like the dwarves and men do, which made Azriel's desired range of available songs quite limited. However, she prided herself in doing the unexpected.

The next song had every single elf present covering their faces, scandalized. Evanna was laughing on her chair-pedestal while Azriel was grinning broadly. She pulled up a chair while still singing and stepped onto it, and then onto the centre table. She expertly avoided the glasses, while helping some slightly challenged elves drink their designated drinks by tilting the glass up to their lips and nodding encouragements at them.

She switched to the next song in the same breath, changing tune seamlessly.

The cheering escalated to a loud roar, and elves all around began clinking their glasses with one another before indulging in the delicious alcohol.

The game went on.

* * *

When Azriel had started singing more familiar songs, many of the elves began joining in, which led to a wave of song through the hall. Even the maids had chimed in for the verse. Azriel did not even have to sing any more. They were all doing her work for her. She jumped off the table and climbed onto the next one, picking up a glass as she stood up. She swirled the pale pink liquid inside the glass and brought it to her nose. It smelled deliciously sweet.

She downed the whole thing in one go. She put the glass down and reached for another without pause.

* * *

Thranduil felt empty. His little victory over Azriel the night before had left him satisfied, but with the next dawn he had lost all sense of purpose. Without his father here to guide him he felt like his daily routine as a Prince was lacking. There was always something _happening_... and then suddenly there wasn't.

It irked him to no end. He fingers twitched and his mind couldn't sit still.

It was a relief, then, that he happened to pass through the throne room, which had a direct connection to the great hall.

He heard song and merrymaking of a volume unheard of in the Greenwood. He didn't even have to guess that it was _them_ who were at the root of it.

 _Why is it always them..._

* * *

 **This chapter did not come out how I wanted it to, to be honest. I wanted to write more specific things that Eva and Aza did at the drinking game but I thought if I made it more general I could get through the story faster. Would y'all like it if I go into super-detail for stuff like this or would it be find to keep it general? It's not like this has much to do with plot anyway...**

 **The next chapter will be cute and funny, so wait patiently!~**


	15. Candle Light

**CANDLE LIGHT**

* * *

By the time Thranduil reached the great hall, the Guard had already arrived.

Whenever the Guard joined the fray it was always either in a completely civilised and orderly fashion or an entirely chaotic, manic fashion. In this case it was by far the latter. The Guard had begun wreaking havoc after their designated night shifts had ended, sliding glasses, jumping all over the place, and pouring liqueur over every available surface that wasn't already covered with something or the other.

Thranduil wrinkled his nose in disgust. He spotted a few of his friends making fools of themselves, several normally coy ladies singing completely off key, and several high born Sindarin nobles wobbling as they walked and slurring their words as they spoke.

This was definitely a first for the Prince, who had never seen an elf of his kingdom so much as step the wrong way.

It was absolutely unacceptable.

Thranduil walked with purpose into the hall, but no one batted an eye at him. No one so much as stopped to look at him. They couldn't pay attention, what with the song and dance and hollering and jabbing and incessant whining ringing in the hall. Thranduil scanned the crowd, and his eyes widened by several degrees when he spotted Verona amongst a group of elves, downing an exceptionally tall glass of pinkish alcohol - nothing Thranduil had ever seen before. One of the elves Thranduil could pick out was Ehrendil, and as he moved to the side Thranduil was unsurprised to see Seravi with a glass in his hand and a girl by his side.

As he scanned the crowd again, thinking of a way to end this atrocity before him, his eyes were drawn to the tables in the centre, where two majestic elves sidestepped their way over delicate crystal glasses and bowls effortlessly. Upon closer inspection, they too were quite tipsy.

Evanna and Azriel.

The muscle in Thranduil's jaw tightened.

 _Of course. Who else could it have been?_

He sighed and decided the best way would be to gather his own group and then stop everything with a single command. He manoeuvred his way back to where Seravi and company were loitering just in time to stop Verona from starting on another glass of whatever concoction she was drinking.

"Verona, careful" He took the glass and placed it on the table beside them. Verona's eyebrows shot up and a smile pulled across her face.

"Thranduil! I didn't think you'd be here! We're having so much fun!" She spun around and raised her arms, stumbling slightly. Thranduil held her under her shoulder and pulled her up straight. She giggled.

"Evanna and Lianna are _amazing._ They made all this" Verona spread her arms and spun again, stumbling, again. This time Seravi broke her fall with the hand that wasn't currently holding a glass.

"Is anyone of you here even sober?" Thranduil sighed and looked at Seravi for an answer. Although Seravi was quite a party animal, he was also very civilised about it.

"I doubt it. Other than a few more uptight members of the Guard, no one" Seravi shrugged and out of nowhere a drink seemed to have appeared in his hand. Thranduil blinked a few times to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

 _Uptight..._

Thranduil could think of only a select few who would fall under that category, and only one who would specifically be disinclined to participate in anything even remotely related to the prodigal she-elves.

 _Nlaea._

* * *

She found him before he found her.

Nlaea started when her eyes found the Prince. She blinked several times, not sure if she was seeing correctly. Without hesitating she sidled up to him and tapped him on his shoulder. He turned around and his features relaxed when they made eye contact.

"Nlaea, I was looking for you" Thranduil guided her by grabbing her elbow, pushing past a few elves to a more open, less alcohol-smelling area.

"What is going on here?" He asked.

"I don't know. It's some contest, but it quickly turned into this uncivilised mess..." Nlaea wrinkled her nose and twitched her mouth in distaste. It was so similar to Thranduil's own reaction, he almost laughed.

"This is all too strange. Not even concentrated alcohol can get to an elf's head unless he's drunk a whole barrel of it... Stimulants work differently for elves than men..." Thranduil scanned the crowd again, eyeing their drinks in particular. They were all various shades of flowers: Yellow, orange, red, pink, purple, white, and the occasional silver. Some seemed vaguely familiar, but there was nothing that Thranduil could recognize clearly.

"What are they drinking?" Thranduil's brow furrowed. He was beginning to become suspicious of the whole situation.

His eyes widened at the possible thought that Evanna and Lianna were going to do something horrific, but when he turned to see them - still hopping about on the tables, the thought passed.

"I don't know" Nlaea interrupted his thoughts. "It's some strange concoction, but not poisonous. I still think there is some underhanded purpose to this, Prince Thranduil. None of the Guard wanted to cooperate..." She mumbled the last sentence bitterly, crossing her arms. She was still dressed in her patrol uniform: The classic leather and suede in various shades of brown and green. Most of the other Guard members were as well. They'd headed here straight after their shifts.

The noise was beginning to give Thranduil a headache. "Nlaea, don't worry about-"

Thranduil's words were lost as someone pulled him back by his robe. He nearly stumbled, but the person's hand shot out to hold him upright. He spun on his heel, a string of curses ready on his mouth, and stopped short when he found himself facing the petite form of Evanna. Her eyes were bloodshot but her face was glowing with vitality. Just behind her, leaning against her in fact, was Azriel. She watched Thranduil through vacant eyes. They seemed to see right through him.

"Prince!" She clapped her hands together and stood on her tiptoes. "We didn't expect you here. But I'm glad you came. Since you aren't topsy, I have a favour to ask. You see, Aza, is feeling _sleepy_ " She slurred the word 'sleepy' and smiled widely before continuing, "So please take her to sleep" She smiled again, and Thranduil remained speechless as she shoved Azriel into his arms, spun on her heel, and disappeared into the crowd.

Nlaea was the first to react. She stepped forward and pulled Azriel out of Thranduil's grasp, making Azriel nearly trip over her own dress skirts. Her world swayed in front of her and her vision began to blur at the edges slightly. She shook her head and looked up at them again. After a second she fell forward slightly, and Thranduil's arms shot out to catch her.

When he peered into her eyes he knew something was definitely off. Her eyes were red, just like Evanna's, but they were also dull and unfocussed.

Thranduil was thrown off when she let a smile spread across her face lazily.

"Nelly doesn't like it when you _touch_ me" She started giggling by the time she reached the end of her sentence.

Her smile made her eyes light up.

Beside them, Nlaea clenched her fists tightly. _Nelly?_

"You insolent b-" Nlaea pulled her arm back to strike her, but Thranduil wrapped his arm around Azriel and pulled her firmly against him.

"Nlaea, leave it. I'll take care of her"

Nlaea's eyes widened - both in surprise and in dismay. She stopped short, letting her arm fall to her side. She couldn't disobey, no matter how much she wanted to put the intoxicated she-elf back in her place.

Before Nlaea made a move to leave Thranduil grasped Azriel from underneath both her shoulders and pulled her up straight.

"Can you walk?" His hand remained on her shoulder even though she was firmly planted on her feet.

Azriel blinked hard and leaned forward, peering up at Thranduil through her lashes. She blinked again. Thranduil could feel the noise around him dampening. Her eyes unnerved him. She squinted slightly.

"You don't have a crown!" She laughed and the motion made her body sway. She pressed her hand against him to stop her fall. "Oops! I touched you again" She stood up straight as an arrow, eyes darting around. "Where'd Nelly run off to?"

Thranduil let out an exasperated sigh - something he tended to be doing a lot lately. He took her hand and guided her through the horde of elves and out of the great hall. She tripped and lost her balance quite a few times, but Thranduil's hand was enough to keep her alert. The pressure and warmth was a signal she could process better than sound.

It felt safe.

* * *

Evanna smiled brightly when Verona approached her. Though the night had not gone exactly as planned, it was turning into something better. Something spontaneous and most definitely unforgettable. Verona had none of her previous hostility towards the two of them, and it was a comfort. She had just passed Azriel to the Prince, and had now found herself surrounded by his group of friends. She recognized some, and was just beginning to meet others.

Seravi played the role of moderator, and cut into the discussion whenever he felt it necessary. Which was quite a lot of the time. Verona had stopped drinking and was now focussing on dancing. She tried to convince Evanna to join her, but Evanna was adamant to dance only with Azriel.

"Where is she?"

"She was feeling tired. I sent her to bed"

"She's missing out!" Seravi cut in, raising his glass - which was now full again, high in the air.

Evanna sighed. It was difficult to explain things to people who weren't privy to their little quirks, but their 'tired' was not everyone else's 'tired'. That was the only way to explain it.

"You can't just _not_ dance because she isn't here, you know" Seravi tapped Evanna on her shoulder, pulling her out of her own thoughts.

Evanna stuck out her tongue at him. "Of course I can"

Seravi tapped her nose playfully and shook his head. "No, no, most definitely not. I give myself the quest of finding you a dance partner" He dramatically brought his hand to his brow and began scanning the sea of elves in the hall, as if he was looking for ships on the horizon. Evanna rolled her eyes, as did most of the elves paying attention to them.

Without warning Evanna was suddenly lifted off the ground by a pair of strong hands. She let out a yelp, only relaxing when her feet were on a solid surface. That surface being the tabletop. She looked down and locked eyes with an unfamiliar elf. He wore the Guard attire, with golden thread woven with the green. A King's Guard, then. He didn't seem as nearly as drunk as Evanna, though the casualness of his smile and the way he held himself proved that he had drunk at least a little bit. His pupils were tiny dots in his grey irises.

"And you are?" She held out her hand and he took it.

"Will it matter in the morning?" He grinned, stepping up onto the table/

 _It just comes so naturally to them..._

"It might" She said pointedly, taking a step back - though their fingers were still wound together.

"Ehrendil"

Evanna tried out the name. "Eh...rendil. Ehrendil?" He nodded. She considered for a moment. "That will do" She nodded decisively, stepping towards him and placing her hand on his shoulder carefully.

* * *

Azriel had to walk twice as fast as Thranduil to stop herself from being dragged. Her dress skirts weren't helping all that much.

"Don't walk so fast! You'll trip and break your pretty nose" Azriel yanked her arm back a little to slow him down, but it didn't work.

"I'll trip and break my pretty nose..." Azriel mumbled, taking a few extra steps to keep up with Thranduil's pace.

Thranduil's mouth turned up at the corners. This state of hers seemed to bring him some sort of mild amusement. He slowed his pace by a fraction, waiting to see if she would notice.

"At least you have manners"

She did.

After a silent moment they turned a corner and Azriel's face perked up. "You don't have a crown"

"Yes, we established that earlier" Thranduil said, amused by her lack of inhibition. She was always surprising him.

"But you're a Prince. You're a fake Prince if you don't have a crown" Azriel quipped.

After a moment, Thranduil decided to humour her. "Yes, I'm a fake Prince"

"Are you even a real elf? You're so big" Azriel tilted her chin up.

"What's wrong with that?"

"And your eyebrows look like fingers!" Azriel chuckled, completely disregarding his question. "And why is your hair so thin? You can't be that old. I'm only one hundred and seven. Are you really old?" The words came out one after the other without a single pause.

Thranduil was surprised. _She is that young?_

He turned to look at her. She didn't seem so young from the way she carried herself, but then again neither did he. By elf standards he wasn't that much older than her. A hundred years to an elf is a blink, and a thousand is barely a fraction of a lifetime.

"No, I'm not that old"

"Well, you act like you're old. I met a nine thousand year old elf once. He was nicer than you" She stated firmly, like a petty child who can't be argued with.

"Oh? And what did you say to him?" Thranduil's lips quirked up in anticipation of her answer.

"Can't remember. I'm quite sure I killed him. Or maybe Azriel killed him. Anyway he died" She waved the thought off, getting back to the point of throwing ridiculous questions at Thranduil.

Just as she opened her mouth her knees buckled under her and she fell to the ground in a heap. Thranduil was nearly pulled down with her, but he had enough sense to let go of her hand before losing his balance.

"It's okay. I can just sleep here" Azriel stretched her arms and laid herself down on the marble floor. Thranduil couldn't stop himself from laughing softly this time. He bent down and scooped her up into his arms, lifting her off the ground effortlessly.

Her eyes widened in surprise. She felt like she was flying.

"You're so tall! I didn't know Silvan elves could get so big" Azriel watched him carefully. He glanced down at her, a slight expression of annoyance on his face.

"I am not a Silvan"

Azriel blinked a few times. "You aren't? I thought the Greenwood was only home to Silvans. Are you some half-elf then? No, half-elves can't be royalty..." She looked up at him again. "Can they?" She shook her head. "No, of course not"

Thranduil pursed his lips to stop a smile. "Our royal line are Sindar"

Azriel's face made an expression of recognition and she nodded vaguely. "Ah, the Grey Elves. That explains a lot"

Thranduil's brows furrowed in puzzlement. _What does_ that _mean?_

" _Sindarin is so hard to speak"_ She added, in Sindarin.

" _You speak it well enough"_ Thranduil replied, slightly impressed with her hold on the language. She seemed to know quite a few.

Absently, Azriel let her head rest against Thranduil's chest. Sleep was tugging at her eyelids incessantly.

 _Not yet..._

* * *

Thranduil placed Azriel's sleeping form onto the bed carefully. Her hair was still done up with pins, and her bodice hugged her body tightly. He took out the hairpins and left them by the side table and turned her on her side to loosen the bodice laces. He reached out his hand, but then hesitated.

He shouldn't have been touching her this way, especially when she was asleep.

 _I'm not doing anything wrong._

He looked at her profile, soft and relaxed.

"Azriel, wake up" He nudged her once, but she didn't respond. "Azriel, I'm going to loosen your laces. Is that fine with you?" He tilted her chin towards him this time, and tapped her jaw hard with this thumb. She barely stirred.

"Mmm"

Thranduil took that as consent. He turned her on her side again and pulled on the first lace, unravelling the whole bodice. He didn't pull it apart. She straightened herself and found a comfortable position. Thranduil took that as a signal to leave. Just as he turned towards the door a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist with such force that Thranduil winced. Azriel's grip tightened when he tried to pry his hand free from her grasp.

"Don't leave" She mumbled into her pillow. She sounded surprisingly alert. Surprisingly lucid. Her voice had lost that slur and that overly enthusiastic edge it had had before.

Thranduil did a double take of her words and hesitated. She had said something like this earlier. About not sleeping alone.

 _Is she serious right now...?_

"I can't sleep alone. Just..." Her grip loosened as her fingers lost their earlier strength. After a moment her hand fell back onto the bed. Thranduil remained where he was standing.

"Someone will get hurt. I will get hurt. Just, please... Something will..." Her voice became softer with each word until it was barely an audible whisper. Thranduil was perplexed, to say the least.

He could leave and bring Evanna back, but Eru only knew how long that would take. He could leave and just call Azriel's bluff.

Or he could wait till she fell asleep and then leave.

He was shaken from his thoughts when Azriel shifted herself, turning so that she could look at him clearly. Her eyes peeled open, weighed down with sleep and fatigue.

"Stay with me"

After an age of deliberation Thranduil sat down at the foot of the bed and leaned against the bed post. Azriel didn't close her eyes till she was sure he was staying put.

Thranduil watched her in the silent darkness. There was a candle by the windowsill, and its light shone far enough to bathe the bed in a soft pale glow. Little steaks of her hair shone bright golden. Thranduil closed his eyes for a moment, trying to sear the picture into his mind.

He succeeded.

* * *

Thranduil's hand reflexively fell to his side - though there was no knife hanging there, when he heard the latch of the door click. He got off the bed and opened the door, surprised to find a member of the King's Guard standing there with a sleeping Evanna in his arms.

The elf seemed even more surprised to see his Prince emerging from another's chamber.

"Prince Thranduil, I-"

"Ehrendil, give her to me" Thranduil reached out to take her from him, but Ehrendil hesitated.

"She said something about not being alone... I didn't-"

"She isn't" He nodded towards the bed and Ehrendil leaned through the doorway to get a better look. He made out a resting form on the bed, just barely lit by the fading candle light.

Thranduil tossed his hair over his shoulder and breathed deeply. He opened the door wider and stepped aside. "Put her to bed and then leave, understood?"

Ehrendil nodded, stepping into the room. Thranduil left after giving Azriel one last look.

She was so still she could have been dead.

* * *

 **This seemed a bit short... idk. Originally I wanted Thranduil to sleep beside Azriel but then I thought it'd be too sudden.**

 **Please leave a review! Any predictions or thoughts? Feel free to tell me :)**


	16. Paintbrushes and Princes

**PAINTBRUSHES AND PRINCES**

* * *

Evanna awoke after dawn. Azriel had already woken up, but was still laying beside her. Her eyes were glued to the canopy above the bed. She had taken off her bodice but not the dress. Evanna was still in her bodice. She sat up, stretched, and undid the laces, finally sighing when she pulled it off. The relief was immediate.

"What is it?" Evanna rubbed the back of her neck and looked down at Azriel's stoic face. She appeared to be deep in thought.

"I looked like a fool last night..." She muttered. Evanna stretched again and stifled a yawn.

"Don't be ridiculous, you looked grand"

Azriel sighed and turned her head to look at Evanna, though she made no move to sit up. "That's not what I meant. I was drunk and sleepy. And the Prince saw me in that state"

Evanna's eyes widened as the memory came to her. She had handed Azriel over to Thranduil as he was the only sober elf she could find. "It was my fault. I gave you to him" She lowered her head in apology.

"No, I was just too careless. I shouldn't have drunk so much. He saw me in such a vulnerable state..." Azriel frowned, a thought suddenly coming to her.

"What is it?" Evanna stretched herself out beside Azriel, propping her head up with her palm.

"I feel so foolish. I asked him to stay with me. I..." Azriel let the memory come back to her. Though she was drunk, she could remember almost every second of it. How she'd been dragged, how she fell, Thranduil carrying her to bed and undoing her laces. Azriel felt completely violated at the thought of him being anywhere near her when she was in that state.

 _Why... Of all the times..._

"He didn't hurt you, right?" Evanna asked nonchalantly. Not that she didn't care, she simply had confidence in Azriel's abilities. To a fault, at times.

"No. He was..." Azriel almost blushed as the memory of him asking her permission to undo her laces crossed her mind. "Polite?"

Evanna laughed. "Of course he was. They all are around here"

Azriel let herself smile, finally. "You're right. Anyway, how was your night?"

Evanna perked up slightly. "Quite grand. I mingled with the Prince's friends a little. They're all much more fun than he is. Especially Seravi"

Azriel's eyebrows shot up. "Please don't tell me you fancy him"

Evanna stopped a laugh from bubbling up. "No, no, of course not. He's far too simple"

"Did you dance with anyone?"

"Yes. I was quite intoxicated though. I remember that he was a King's Guard, so I think he will be useful to us"

Azriel gasped. "Holy Eru! The great, morally righteous Evanna, dare speaks of _using_ another creature for her own purpose! Middle Earth is appalled"

Evanna rolled her eyes at Azriel's dramatic outburst, but didn't bother defending herself. Instead she brought the subject back to Azriel.

"Aza, I'm actually quite surprised by you" Evanna sat up again, pulling Azriel up with her.

"Why?" Azriel stretched her arms out and cracked her neck a few times.

"You've become surprisingly comfortable around here, with all these foreign elves. I thought it would take an age for you to get used to the place"

"I..." Azriel silently sifted through her thoughts for a moment. "I agree. I think I understand the camaraderie between these elves. It's not so different from our own, don't you think?"

Evanna's expression brightened. "Yes. The ties of friendship run deep between them. Though perhaps they are just kind to us because we are nobility" Evanna laughed sardonically, and Azriel smiled.

"I am actually surprised. Especially by the Prince and his friend, Verona. They forgave us so quickly, so spontaneously. It feels like a trap but somehow I can tell it is not. It is in their eyes. Something, I don't know..."

"Yes, you're right. I was also surprised, but it is a good thing. We should be thanking Eru for this little blessing"

"But still, sometimes I'm suspicious" Azriel ran her fingers through her hair and leaned against the headboard. "He has no reason to be so kind towards us. Me, especially, since I've insulted and antagonized him more than you have. I just don't understand him..."

Evanna glanced from side to side, as if weighing her words carefully. "Well..." A smile drew across her face, suspiciously sly. "I think that he... If not entirely, perhaps only a little, I don't know. Maybe it's-"

"Get on with it!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Evanna chuckled softly before continuing. "I speculate that he probably fancies you"

Azriel's head whipped forward. She was silent for five whole seconds. Her mouth opened but no words came out. Evanna tried to stop a smile but ended up laughing outright when Azriel closed her mouth again.

"As if!" She finally yelled, throwing a pillow at Evanna in jest. Evanna caught the pillow and hid her giggling face behind it. "What an absolutely absurd statement, Eva!" Azriel was outraged, but also amused. Her words weren't thrown out of anger, but out of mild annoyance.

Evanna fell over, still laughing. "I'm sorry, but it is a logical argument! Why else would he be so interested in you? He never seems to speak with me as lightly as he speaks with you"

"That's just because you are always formal with everyone. Even me sometimes"

"Forgive me, it's ingrained" She finally recovered from her laughing fit.

"Besides, what is there in me for him to see? To love?" Azriel said softly, avoiding Evanna's eyes. Evanna smiled. It was a sad smile.

"Everything, Azriel. Absolutely everything" She reached out and took Azriel's hands in hers. They looked at each other for a silent second before letting go.

They remained silent for a while.

Evanna spoke first. "But seriously. Consider it. If it's true we can exploit that emotion and make sure they protect us" Her tone was still light, but a weight settled over her words.

"No, I think he would do that anyway"

Evanna frowned. "How can you be sure"

Azriel hesitated before answering. "He told me. He said we would be protected here no matter what"

Just then there was a knock at the door. The two elves helped each other tie their bodices back on before Evanna opened the door.

It was Verona.

* * *

Evanna and Azriel jumped back in surprise when Verona pushed past them into their room.

"Good morning!" She said, obviously chipper about something.

"Good morning?" Evanna and Azriel replied together after a moment. "What brings you here?" Evanna took the lead, as usual.

"Nothing in particular. I was feeling bored so I thought I'd see if you wanted to do anything special today"

"Where did all your friends go?" Azriel crossed her arms and gave Verona a pointed look.

She sighed. "Most are in the Guard. They're going out for scouting in a while"

"Scouting what? Is something coming?" Evanna snapped to attention. Azriel perked up at this sudden reaction.

"No... It's just standard patrol"

"When are they leaving? Who all are going?" Evanna tried to keep the insistence out of her voice as she spoke. Azriel could tell immediately that she was trying to weasel her way into going with them.

"In about fifteen minutes. Ehrendil leads the Guard for morning patrols... But why do you even want to know? It's not like you can stop them" Verona crossed her arms, eyeing Evanna curiously.

Evanna's eyes blanked out for a moment as her thoughts formed and reformed. Azriel spoke up in the silence. "Which gate do they leave from?"

"East. But why do you-" Before Verona could finish Evanna had already slipped out the door after nodding at Azriel.

Verona was perplexed. "What in the name of the Valar is she rushing off for? She can't possibly ride with them..."

Azriel half-smiled. "Ehrendil"

Verona's eyes lit up in knowing. She pursed her lips to stop a smile. "That was rather unexpected. He usually takes a liking towards more... timid individuals"

Azriel shrugged, uncrossing her arms. "Evanna has charm"

Verona nodded fondly. "That, she does. Well it seems it's just us... Do you want to do anything particular?"

Azriel considered for a moment. "Do you have any charcoal?"

"For sketching?"

"Yes"

"You can sketch? Oh, how wonderful! I'll take you to the artists room" Verona took both of Azriel's hands, somewhat startling her, and pulled her out into the hall. Thereafter she held her hand, guiding her through the winding halls. Azriel felt awkward, but amused. She didn't pull her hand out of Verona's till they reached the room.

* * *

The artists room was a wonder. It was brighter and more vibrant than any other room Azriel had visited so far. Brushes and knives and spatulas lined the walls, and profound shades of colour filled cloth, canvas, and scroll alike. Wooden easels lay hidden amongst the debris and messy chaos of utensils and tools splayed all over the room. Yet there was a clear path through the maze. Azriel didn't need to watch her step, surprisingly.

"What would you like? Charcoal, you said? Do you want clean sheets, textured sheets, canvas... everything is here" Verona spread her arms and motioned to the room as a whole.

"Where is everyone? Does no one come here?" Azriel asked, letting her hands brush the easels and canvases-in-progress as she made her way deeper into the room.

"Usually the Royal Artisans spend their time here. I suspect they've gone to Lake Town to restock on some items. Things get used up quite quickly" Verona tapped her fingers against her leg, eyeing the shelves for charcoal sticks.

"I can't seem to find any charcoal here. I can get some from Lady Leilath if you are willing to wait a while" She turned to Azriel, who was still engrossed in the contents of the room.

"Of course I can wait. Take your time" Azriel said. She had been eyeing an empty easel on the far side of the room while Verona had spoken, and didn't have the heart to tell her that she had changed her mind about the charcoal.

The silence served her better, anyway.

* * *

Thranduil entered the artists room cautiously. Verona had accosted him outside the throne room and shoved a box of charcoal into his arms without so much as a greeting before rushing off. She'd told him to take it to the artists room for Azriel. This had taken him by considerable surprise. Firstly, why was Azriel in the artists room? And more importantly, why was Verona delivering things to her? Of course, he was the one doing the delivering at the moment.

 _I am a prince for Eru's sake._

When he stepped into the room he could hear no other sounds other than his own footsteps and breathing. He couldn't see anyone either. Then, suddenly in the corner, he heard the scraping of a brush against canvas. Thranduil frowned in curiosity. Carrying the box of charcoals carefully, he glided through the room without a sound. When he turned around a stack of old wooden panels she came into view. She was sitting on the ground, skirts splayed. Sunlight filtered through the glass windows, illuminating her hair. Thranduil moved his focus from her to the canvas she was working on. She was using paint quite frivolously, covering her entire brush and streaking the paint on without a care in the world, yet the figure that was being formed was intricate and detailed. It was a man, a huntsman upon closer inspection. He had chin length hair and a strong form. Azriel switched to a smaller brush to work on the eyes. They were dark enough to be pure black, but Thranduil could see a hint of brown on her brush.

"Verona, I'm sorry I made you go and get charcoal" Azriel said suddenly, letting her shoulders sag. Thranduil tensed and pursed his lips to stop a laugh.

"I'm sorry too" He said, placing the charcoal box on the floor by his feet. Azriel's head shot up and she turned around sharply. Her eyes narrowed and in a trice she stood up and turned to face him.

"What are you doing here?" Her demeanour immediately turned guarded. Thranduil felt slightly disappointed. He wasn't sure why.

"Well it is _my_ palace. I should have thought I was allowed to go wherever I pleased" Thranduil gave her a pointed look. Her expression relaxed slightly but her arms were still tense.

"Your work is nice. The technique is slightly awry but I like the form" He nodded to the painting behind her, and she briefly glanced down. A a sudden darkness passed over her face.

"Thank you. But where is Verona?"

"She wanted to meet my mother. So she recruited me to play delivery boy"

That got a laugh out of her - however small and brief. "She really ought to respect you more"

 _That_ made Thranduil laugh. " _She_ should respect me? I should say the same for _you_ "

Azriel opened her mouth to protest but no words came out. "...You aren't _my_ prince"

Thranduil's eyebrow twitched. "Then who is?" He nodded to the painting again. "Is he?"

Azriel's eyes widened ever so slightly. "No" She snapped immediately, startling Thranduil. He narrowed his eyes at her and stepped forward.

"Is he a real person?"

"Of course not" Azriel scoffed. She had to turn her chin up to look at him in the eye. Thranduil felt smug for it.

"What a shame. For a man he looks quite graceful" Thranduil bent down slightly to get a better look at the painting, forcing Azriel to step back.

"Just forget about it. Please leave me alone" Azriel pushed him back with one hand lightly. He stepped back but didn't make a move to leave. Instead he bent down and picked up a brush from a pot of paint by his feet. It was bright orange.

"You should thank Eru that I don't reprimand you for your disrespect" Thranduil quipped, inspecting the brush closely. The paint was slowly dripping down.

"Why not?"

This seemed to throw Thranduil off guard.

"Why don't you say anything? Or punish me?" Azriel was genuinely curious now.

 _Was Evanna right? Is it because he loves me?_ The very thought seemed altogether foreign to her. But if it were true, it would explain quite a lot.

Thranduil sighed, trying to collect his thoughts. He knew exactly why he was treating her differently. The only question was whether he should tell her or not.

"It's difficult to explain..."

Azriel waited.

"I know about you"

She froze. _What is he saying?! There is no way he knows anything..._

"What about me?"

"My father, he told me you were branded"

Azriel's shoulders relaxed. "Yes, that is true"

"He also said you were extremely dangerous, and that I should appease you"

Azriel's mouth nearly fell open. _Appease me?_ She almost laughed.

"Only half true"

Thranduil raised an eyebrow "What is?"

"I'm dangerous, but not to you. It isn't' necessary to appease me or Evanna"

Thranduil tilted his head and regarded her carefully for a silent moment. She shifted beneath his gaze. "What?"

Without straightening his head he half-smiled and flicked the brush. The orange paint drops arced through the air, passing Azriel and splattering on the canvas behind her.

"That," Thranduil twirled the brush and placed it back in the paint pot, "Was for getting my entire palace drunk without permission"

Azriel took a moment to collect herself. She turned around and looked at what had become of her art. It appeared as though bright orange blood was dripping from the huntsman's eyes. Her fingers curled one by one until both her hands were balled into tight fists. Thranduil turned around but before he could take another step Azriel spun back, grabbed the brush and threw it past him. It met the wall and the brush exploded into splinters. Orange paint patterned the wall like a flower.

"Apologize"

Thranduil looked over his should down at her. "Absolutely not"

Azriel's eyes filled to the brim with rage. When he turned back around she reached her hand into the pot and brought it out again, covered in orange paint. Without hesitating she grabbed Thranduil's hair tightly. The paint squelched through her fingers. Thranduil snapped his hair forward, pulling his hair out her grasp. When he spun around the paint on his hair smeared all over the back of his robe and face.

A smile played on Azriel's lips. This time it was Thranduil's turn to ball his hands into fists.

"Don't ever," Thranduil bent down to her level, "Try that again" His voice was surprisingly moderate.

Azriel, instead of stepping back, leaned even closer. "Or. What?" She whispered.

Thranduil stood up and found another brush with his hands. This time he flicked it, and splattered paint all over the front of Azriel's dress. Azriel didn't seem to be affected, so he tilted the brush slightly to change his aim. Azriel immediately held both her arms out.

"No!"

But he did. Azriel wrestled the brush from his hand, getting both their hands drenched with blue. Thranduil's other hand shot out and found a cup of something or the other, which he took the opportunity to pour over her sleeves. It turned out to be water. Azriel's arms shot back reflexively and she glowered at Thranduil menacingly.

"You are such a child!"

"I told you earlier, remember? I'm not _that_ old"

Azriel huffed, blowing a stray lock of hair out of her face. She decided to just finish it. She took a tentative step forward, testing Thranduil, before throwing herself against him. The breath was knocked right out of Thranduil as he toppled to the floor along with her. She braced her forearms against his chest but before she could push herself off him he reached his hand shot out to the side before he swiped his finger down her nose. Azriel remained stunned in her place, staring down at him.

Thranduil laughed.

The blot on her nose was deep, pure black - from the very charcoal Thranduil had brought with him. Azriel's face tinted pink and she hurriedly climbed off him.

"I leave you two alone for ten minutes and this is what happens?" A voice sounded from across the room. Thranduil, who was still on the ground, tilted his head back to see an upside down Verona, arms crossed and a smirk on her face. She seemed more amused than outraged - which surprised Thranduil.

He got up off the ground as if it were the most natural thing for him to be on the floor in the first place. He turned quickly to make sure Verona didn't see the yellow on his hair.

"He started it" Azriel crossed her arms in defiance. Verona laughed, letting her arms fall to her sides.

"You both are such children!" She giggled a little more before walking past Thranduil to see Azriel's painting. "Aza, this is marvellous!" She exclaimed, folding her hands in delight. Thranduil's eyes narrowed.

"Aza?"

"Thank you, Verona. At least you can appreciate something without destroying it in the process" She shot Thranduil a bitter look. He didn't meet her gaze. Instead he focussed on Verona.

 _Aza...?_

"Oh, I noticed. Did Thranduil really do that?" She peered more closely at the painting, observing the interfering orange and blue.

"I am standing right here!"

Verona chuckled, turning away from the painting and back to him. "I know. Are you done?" She turned back to Azriel without giving him another glance.

"No. Can you please take him away? He's a nuisance" She muttered the last sentence under her breath, but Verona still heard.

"Hear that Thranduil? You're a nuisance" She laughed again, covering her mouth this time. "Come on, let's leave Azriel to paint" She took Thranduil by the hand and all but dragged him back through the maze of the room. He was too tired to utter any protests. He didn't even know why he was tired.

Azriel was left in silence again. She sat back down on the floor and dipped her brush back into the brown paint. As she began fixing the smudges that Thranduil had created on the canvas she quietly smiled. It would be good here if everyday was something like this.

* * *

 **Lol please don't cringe too hard. I liked writing this. I wanted it to be a full out paint war but that's way too childish. So I stuck to this much. Please review!**


	17. Truth Be Told

**TRUTH BE TOLD**

* * *

Evanna was most amused by Azriel's account of the events in the artists room. She had returned to their chambers with a black blot on her nose and colours dripping from her skirts and sleeves. She'd managed to change her dress before Evanna came, but the blot was proving to be a nuisance. It lasted for three days - during which Azriel refused to leave her room. To her surprise, Thranduil and Verona had enquired about her to Evanna. Her reply was the same as always:

"She's feeling tired"

On the fourth day the blot had vanished and Azriel finally got the motivation to leave her room. Evanna accompanied her and eventually suggested that they leave the palace.

"To go where?"

"We can scout. I went out with the King's Guard on a patrol a few days ago. The territory stretches quite far, but the edges of the forest, especially towards the south, seemed to be tainted with some malicious aura. You'd have noticed it right away"

Azriel's heart skipped a beat. "You think he's here?"

"No, but perhaps closer than we thought"

Azriel nodded vaguely, lost in her thoughts. They left the palace via the east gate, and headed north on the path that split from there. The Greenwood was flourishing in the late summer heat, with profound shades of green lighting up the forest floor. The path slowly merged with the dense undergrowth. Colourful flowers lit up patches of grassy clearings, and herbs sprouted at the roots of trees. It was ethereal.

They sat down on a rock at the edge of a clearing.

"Do you think people live out here?" Evanna leaned back against a tree trunk, spreading her legs out under her skirt.

"I don't think so. Those elves don't seem like they'd last out in this place, no matter how 'at home' they appear"

"I'm imagining Prince Thranduil sleeping in a tree"

Azriel burst out laughing. "Imagining him anywhere other than his palace is amusing"

"Imagine him with his silvery hair getting tangled in the brambles. Or his robes getting caught in thorn bushes" Evanna let her imagination wander, and they both smiled.

A sudden crackling of branches brought their attention back to their surroundings. Azriel thought it was just a wild animal, but Evanna was on her guard immediately. She gathered her skirt and stood up on the rock, scanning the undergrowth.

"Over there" She whispered, motioning with her chin. Azriel proceeded with caution, then sensed a presence.

 _It may just be an elf... Or not..._ Azriel tensed.

Neither of them had weapons, but that wasn't a particularly big issue. Evanna came up behind Azriel, and they moved closer and closer towards the rustling sound together.

Around the base of a large oak, they found a hunched figure bent over a bush of bright yellow buds. At the sound of their approach, the figure stood up and turned around.

It was Leilath.

Both Azriel and Evanna jumped in surprise, and immediately relaxed. Leilath on the other hand frowned at them, and squinted, as if she couldn't recognize them.

"Holy Eru, is it really you both?"

Azriel and Evanna stepped out into the light, and Leilath's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"It really is! My, my, Themra did a job of putting you back together. Of course, it wouldn't have been possible without me" She gave them somewhat of a smug look.

"And for that we are eternally grateful" Evanna took up the speaking part, as usual.

"We judged you too quickly, it seems. I personally would like to welcome you" Leilath gave them a slight nod, to which they bowed in response.

"But," Leilath continued, "what are you doing out here? It's not safe without a member of the guard accompanying you, generally"

"What about you?" Azriel crossed her arms. Leilath chuckled under her breath.

"Oh who'd want to touch an old worn out elf. You young beauties on the other hand..." She sounded more amused than bitter. "Quite appealing I must say"

That seemed to make Evanna blush, but Azriel remained unperturbed. "What are you doing?"

"Collecting some ingredients. You can help if you like"

Without protest both the elves joined Leilath in her task. They were collecting the buds from the bushel and storing them away in little pouches Leilath had handed them.

"Are these for poisons?" Azriel asked offhandedly.

"No, rather not. They're for scenting bath water, if you're so curious, actually"

This made all three of them laugh.

"But, my question remains unanswered. What are you really doing out here?"

"We wanted to get to know the place a bit. After all, it's been years"

"Hm. Quite. A century is a while"

"How come you don't have people to do this for you?" Evanna's question this time.

Leilath shrugged. "Might as well move around a bit. Also, the other elves aren't very dependable. They always make a mistake. Never tell others to do work you can easily do yourself, they'll just make a mess of it" She grumbled.

Azriel pursed her lips, trying to stop a smile from creeping up onto her face.

"How's the Prince getting used to you?" Leilath asked suddenly.

Evanna and Azriel were stumped for an answer.

"He's a bit..." Evanna began.

"Perplexed, one could say" Azriel finished. She surprised herself - not being one for words most of the time.

Leilath let out a soft laugh. "I've known the boy since birth, and I've never seen him like this"

"What do you mean?" Evanna raised an eyebrow. Azriel also perked up - her curiosity significantly piqued.

"He's usually strict, but with both of you he has really loosened his reigns. Especially with you" Leilath motioned to Azriel with her chin. "The boy I knew would have slit your throat the moment you uttered even a word against Verona, but you, even after _attacking_ her, nearly _killing_ her, got his forgiveness without even trying! It makes me quite curious - what is it in you that so changed him?"

Evanna gave Azriel a pointed look, but Azriel herself was at a loss. "I really couldn't say"

Leilath raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her. "Oh I think you could... But more importantly, I want to know why you are here"

"We told you already" Evanna pointed out.

Leilath shook her head. "No, I mean, why did you come to the Greenwood in the first place? What brought you here?"

Azriel and Evanna exchanged looks. Leilath sensed unspoken words passing between them, but could deduce nothing from their expressions.

"If we tell you, you won't tell the King" Evanna gave Leilath a hard look.

Leilath's mouth curved into a smile. "Don't order me around, child. It's my will whether I tell him. Your story should be convincing, first off"

Azriel continued. "We are running. Hiding at this point. There are people, no, a single man who is after us"

"Why?"

"Why do you think? The point is we are using this place as a shelter. It may be only a matter of time before he finds out we are here"

Evanna watched Azriel out of the corner of her eye, carefully surveying each word Azriel spoke. She smiled inwardly. Azriel hadn't given away anything too important.

"Then why don't you tell the King?"

"He'll send out scouts, and then we will be discovered all the more easily"

Leilath nodded. "Well, your story is convincing, though not very detailed" She gave them a pointed look, but knew very well that they weren't going to divulge anything more at this time.

"You're lucky King Oropher is not here. For now, your secret is safe."

They didn't exchange any more words till they reached the palace gate. Azriel and Evanna accompanied Leilath back to the healing chambers, where they spent some time taking stock of the place. A few of Leilath's staff gave them funny looks, but they didn't mind. After helping Leilath sort her buds into storage jars, they left together - once again unsure of their destination.

"What do you think she was trying to say when she mentioned Thranduil changing?" Azriel finally asked.

"I'm not sure. Maybe he's taken a liking to us"

Azriel shook her head. "I don't think he's so simple minded. It must be a facade"

Evanna smiled at her and shook her head softly. Azriel crossed her arms in defence.

"What is it?"

"Azriel, don't you know, all men are the same - whether a peasant or an elven prince"

"I told you to stop talking such nonsense" Azriel playfully nudged her in the arm, but her words were meant.

Just then, the two elves came upon Seravi, who was dressed in the green leather-suede hunting outfit. He addressed them formally, and bowed.

"Where are you going right now?" Evanna asked, eyeing the sword at Seravi's hip with mild interest.

"Thranduil organized a hunt. We're leaving in about a half hour"

"A hunt? In the Greenwood?" Azriel perked up.

"Yes. Does it interest you? We rarely have any women accompanying us - other than those who serve in the Guard, but I'm sure I can convince Thranduil to let you two join. After all, we know you can hold your own" He gave them a knowing look, but they ignored it.

"Thank you, Seravi, but you don't have to ask him for us. We will see about it" Evanna smiled at him.

"Very well, I guess I may see you, then?"

The two elves nodded in unison, and Seravi bowed in farewell.

Azriel and Evanna gave each other a look and smiled.

"Finally" Azriel sighed.


	18. The Hunt

**THE HUNT**

* * *

The hunting party was moderately sized, and had a mix of members of the Guard, nobles, and gentry. They had gathered by the southern gate. Including Azriel and Evanna there were two other women. Azriel was surprised by one of them - who appeared to be a noble of high rank from the way she held herself. She was wearing the same hunting attire as most of the others, though upon closer inspection it was clearly well-made and of high quality. Azriel would have liked to exchange a few words with her, but she was already in a heated conversation with one of the other noble-looking elves. Azriel looked around for Thranduil, but could see no sign of him.

Azriel and Evanna themselves wore the standard issue uniforms for the Guard, as they didn't have their regular attire, or any custom made for themselves. Evanna noted to ask Verona if it would be possible.

At the moment she was maintaining a distance from Azriel and mingling with the others casually. Seravi approached her from behind.

"Lady Evanna. I'm glad you decided to come." He bowed and kissed her hand. Evanna smiled in return.

"Where is the Prince?"

"He was just behind me. Not sure where he wandered off." Seravi turned around, then scanned the room. His eyes brightened when he spotted Thranduil entering through the doorway.

"The man in question," Seravi said as he approached.

All heads turned to watch the Prince as he entered and greeted the higher ranking nobles. Azriel noticed, from her little corner, that the woman from earlier was also coming to greet him. From they way they spoke they could have been best friends - much to Azriel's surprise.

 _I really must speak to her..._

After all manner of pleasantries were exchanged the party began making its way out of the gate to gather the horses. The weapons had been laid out on temporary benches and racks that had been brought outside. The weather was perfect for a hunt - sunny, but still a bit of a bite in the air. The horses were saddled and ready for their riders.

Thranduil's horse was a magnificent beast, dark as night and tall, strong and fierce. Azriel expected a white stallion, somehow it seemed apt for him, but it was the complete opposite: A black mare. Evanna and Azriel chose similar horses, chestnut browns with black manes. Both were stallions, but still smaller than Thranduil's steed. For weapons, they selected recurve bows and short swords which were effective for close combat in dense woods. Azriel's mouth turned up at the corners when she saw Thranduil picking up a broadsword, just as she had recommended ages before.

 _At least he listens._

Thranduil turned the broadsword in his hand and inspected the blade edge. It was quite heavy, even heavier with the sheath, but equally powerful. He didn't think he would use it today, but he had noticed the general stir that had begun since his father's departure. People were starting to look towards him for some sort of leadership. His mother had a lot of support as a monarch, but no queen ever held the entirety of the king's power - even if he was absent. That duty fell to the heir.

Thranduil had to put on a show.

Sheathing the sword, he moved out of the way to let the others choose their weapons. He had on a thick dark cloak lined with fur, and his hair had been pinned back from his face. After mounting his horse he looked around and watched the others busying themselves. Though there were quite a few people, almost twenty, the noise from the group was only a low din. Off to the side Thranduil spotted the prodigal elves chatting with each other and Seravi. Seeing his friend beside them, acting so casual and unguarded, made him feel disconcerted. He couldn't say why.

Thranduil hoped those two wouldn't cause trouble today. Especially Aza.

 _Aza._

He spoke the name in his mind. It seemed nice. Softer than her chosen name, but fiercer than her real name.

 _Lianna..._

The name didn't seem to be hers at all.

* * *

Once the hunt had taken to the Greenwood the atmosphere became more casual and relaxed. People began interacting regardless of rank or title, and it made things easy for Evanna and Azriel all the more. They stayed near the rear, not wanting to attract attention to themselves, while Thranduil and Seravi rode at the forefront. The noble elf Azriel had taken notice of was also in the front. She carried a reasonably large bow - not a recurve like Eva and Aza's, along with arrows which had little silver feathers on their fletching.

As the group travelled further into the Greenwood, Thranduil gave a warning not to venture too far from one another, and to keep within a reasonable distance from the palace. The edge of the woods were no longer a safe haven.

Azriel and Evanna separated as well, with Evanna heading to the front of the group and Azriel coming up to the centre. Soon the hunt would begin.

After a silence had passed, the rustling sounds in the bushes grew louder. Some elves got off their horses and continued on foot, while others stood up on their horses and reached up towards some low branches, taking to the trees. Azriel stayed on her horse, keeping a short distance from the noble she-elf. She was waiting for the opportunity to approach her. Over the side of a bush Azriel noticed a herd of deer. She turned to look at the group, and saw that they had all drawn their bows. Quickly she followed suit.

The silence grew, and all the elves remained still. Suddenly there was a snap of a bow string, and the forest floor erupted with sound and movement. The elves on horses sped forward to keep up with the scattering herd, and the ones on foot worked long-range. A rush of air beat at Azriel's face as she surged forward, aiming her bow towards the general direction of the herd and releasing. Her horse suddenly leapt over a bushel, nearly throwing her off in the process. Quickly she regained her grip on the reins, and pulled to slow her horse down. The elves around her were beginning to spread out in all directions. Ahead of her, Azriel saw Evanna take a detour in pursuit of her prey. Thranduil and his entourage kept to the path, and the noble elf that Azriel was so desperate to meet was following suit. Already Azriel could hear the sounds of deer hitting the forest floor as they were brought down by the elves' arrows. Their cries rang out, and the birds in the trees erupted from their perches. Azriel turned her head up, and aimed at one of them. It was a partridge. It fell to the ground a ways off, but Azriel couldn't have been bothered to go out of her way to retrieve it. This was all just a bit of fun anyway.

Azriel cracked her neck and stretched out her bow arm. With a bow she was elementary in skill, but she had a natural ability to kill. It was ingrained, after all. Shooting while riding a horse was a huge feat, though she knew Evanna was probably doing it with her eyes closed. Azriel seemed to welcome the challenge.

Suddenly she found herself side by side with the she-elf. Her bow as ready and aimed, and she released in a fluid, graceful motion. Azriel heard the arrow meet its target, marked by the sound of a shrill cry. She stopped her horse suddenly, prompting Azriel to do the same.

"What happened?" She asked, watching the elf dismount.

She looked up at Azriel with a smile. "Oh it's nothing. I just seem to have run out of arrows!" She chuckled and began checking the saddle bags to see if any extra arrows had been supplied.

"You can have my quiver," Azriel said, pulling the quiver off her shoulder and handing it down to her. "I'm Az-"

"Lady Lianna, yes, I know you. I am Denafil." She bowed her head and took the quiver from Aza. "Thank you."

Azriel was taken aback, but suddenly relieved at the interruption. Mentally she slapped herself. She would have made a blunder by revealing her name.

"Lady Denafil? I'm sorry, I don't know how to address you properly." Azriel sheepishly fidgeted with the bowstring.

Denafil thought for a moment. "I think 'Lady' is right, but it's perfectly acceptable to call me by my name when we are out like this. Here all that isn't important anyway."

Azriel liked Denafil immediately. She was tall, even for an elf, and had very pale golden hair. It was tied back in a long braid. Her eyes were light green - a colour Azriel had never seen before.

"Denafil, then. I saw you at the gate. You're quite different from the others."

"What others?" Denafil asked, mounting her horse once more and getting back on the trail.

"The other elves. I meant you stood out." Azriel once again mentally slapped herself. She was horrible at keeping this type of conversation going, especially with a stranger.

"Thank you, if it was a compliment." Denafil smiled. "Oh how annoying," she said when she saw the empty trail. "They've chased all the deer off."

Azriel looked around and found a smaller trail leading off from the main one. "Maybe we can cut them off if we take a detour. Over there." She pointed, and both of them rode onward.

* * *

After they had finally caught up, the hunt settled in a clearing to rest for a while and regroup. Azriel introduced Evanna to Denafil, and Evanna was quite surprised by Azriel's initiative. She wondered why Denafil caught Azriel's eye, and didn't fail to ask her about it.

"I'm not sure. She had an interesting aura. I simply noticed her standing apart from the others."

"There must be something other than that. Anyway at least people are getting to know you. Even if you go by a different name to them."

"I almost slipped up. Luckily she already knew who I was."

Evanna frowned. "Be careful! We've only just begun to get in their good graces."

Azriel shook her head and sighed. "Yes, yes I know."

"How was your hunt?" Evanna asked, busying herself with restocking her quiver. The others were all in a heated discussion about their escapades so far.

Azriel simply smiled. "It's fun, riding and shooting, but difficult. Maybe I should have stayed on the ground."

"I tried to keep a low profile, but I couldn't help myself." Evanna laughed at herself.

"Did you stand up or something?"

Evanna's mouth twisted in deliberation. "Hm, something like that. I was riding near Prince Thranduil. He's quite different from what I thought."

"You spoke with him?" Now Azriel's interest was piqued.

Evanna nodded. "We had a short chat while we collected our arrows."

* * *

Evanna had been pulling out two arrows from the head of a giant stag she had shot down when Thranduil approached. One of the arrows she was holding was his.

"You bested me again." He pointed at the stag's wounds. Evanna's arrow had met its eye, while Thranduil's had embedded itself in its shoulder.

"I guess so." Evanna shrugged as she handed his arrow back to him. The blood shone bright red in the shafts of light that passed through the trees. Thranduil wiped it clean with a cloth from his quiver and replaced it there.

"They feel very little pain through the eye," Evanna said.

Thranduil nodded in acknowledgement, but said nothing further. They fell into step side by side as they made their way back to the trail where they had left their horses.

"Prince Thranduil, forgive me, but I must know..."

"What is it?"

"Why are you extending such kindness to us? You know nothing about us, yet you allow us to live here so simply."

Thranduil sighed. "It's not for my sake. My mother's, her friends, my kin, in the end it is a question of honour. You did nothing other than protect yourselves."

Evanna nodded and watched Thranduil carefully, trying to gauge his true thoughts. "Nevertheless I thank you from mine and Lianna's side. Rarely have we been shown such kindness from outsiders in the past."

Thranduil stopped short, making Evanna raise an eyebrow. "You said Lianna? She told me that wasn't her name."

This time it was Evanna's turn to be surprised. "She told you?" She clicked her tongue in annoyance.

"Me and Verona. She calls her Aza."

This made Evanna laugh. "That's surprising. Only I call her that."

Thranduil simply shrugged. Evanna couldn't help but be filled with a sense of warmth.

"Our home, our previous home, was a wonderful place. We had this same sort of camaraderie you share with your fellow elves. Thank you for extending it to include us."

* * *

 **I'm just letting you know that most of my 'directions' are pretty fucked up. As in, they don't 100% match up with the real maps of Mirkwood etc. Sorry!**


	19. Amon Lanc

**AMON LANC**

* * *

The hunting party commenced movement a while after. This time they were more liberal, and dispersed over a wide area. Evanna separated from Azriel and stuck with a few older elves who knew the terrain well. It was a good idea to survey the area while hunting. Azriel herself was alone, just in the process of mounting her horse, when she sensed movement in the brambles. Her head jerked to the side and her eyes focused in the direction of the sound.

Only, there was no sound.

She frowned and squinted, and then again she felt it. There was a change in the air, a strange but palpable radiation coming from that direction. At the farthest point of Azriel's vision she could see light illuminating a clearing, but nothing more. When she tried to look away, her body resisted.

Something was calling her.

* * *

Out of the corner of his eye Thranduil noticed movement behind him. When he turned to look her saw Azriel a ways back in the process of mounting her horse. She hadn't made many kills until now, but Thranduil knew she was fully capable. She probably did not want to stand out. Evanna on the other hand didn't seem to think so. Thranduil silently chuckled.

Not wanting to leave her alone in the unfamiliar woods, Thranduil lagged behind the others to wait for her to catch up. Much to his surprise, instead of following the trodden path, she turned her horse and started towards a thicket, heading southwards. Thranduil frowned and was about to call out to her, but by the time the thought occurred to him she had already disappeared through the thick undergrowth, with only the faint sound of her horse's hooves punctuating her existence.

Thranduil made to turn his horse around and leave her be, but stopped with sudden hesitation. She was heading towards the edge of the Greenwood, towards uncertain terrain. Part of Thranduil knew she could take care of herself, but the other part was concerned with having her injuries on his hands, simply because he had not been prudent in keeping her in check. He inwardly sighed, pressed for time.

This time following his judgement, he turned his horse around and followed her through the trees.

##

As Azriel emerged from the trees into the clearing she was hit with a cold wind. The sky had suddenly darkened by a considerable degree, and clouds were already covering half the sky. Azriel took little notice, and jumped off her horse to investigate. At first she saw nothing out of the ordinary, nothing really worth noticing, but once again she felt that same sensation pulling her further and further away from whence she came. Frowning, she approached the other end of the clearing, and almost gasped when she peeped over a large bushel and saw what could only be described as a fortress. It was generously sized, though nothing compared to Oropher's palace, and seemed to be one with the hill it was embedded in. Azriel did not hesitate for even a moment, jumping over the bush and heading down towards the structure. She had to be careful while descending the hill, but it was effortless.

The light reflected off the aged pillars, making them glow. It seemed to be more ruins now than an actual fortress. Azriel's thoughts wandered, and she became curious as to what it had been used for. Perhaps a stronghold?

Just as Azriel was about to enter a large arched doorway, she heard footsteps on the stones above.

"Don't go in there."

Azriel smiled sardonically. _Of course he followed me._

She turned around to see none other than Prince Thranduil standing high atop the hill she had just descended, looking proud as ever. Against the pale, darkening sky, he had a strange look about him. Sinister.

"Why not?" Azriel turned around to address him, stepping away from the door.

Thranduil jumped down from the rocks, landing gracefully a few paces ahead of her. When he stood up his cloak fell about him in a wave. It looked so practised, Azriel almost laughed.

"It may not be safe. This place was abandoned some time ago."

"What is this place?" Azriel turned back to look at the towering fort.

"Amon Lanc. It was once our capital many years ago."

Azriel's eyebrows shot up. "This place:? It's so small compared to our palace."

As soon as the words left her mouth Azriel bit her lip. _Our palace?_

Thranduil, however, did not notice the slip in her words. "Yes, that's the point. Anyway, why did you run off?"

Azriel let a smile spread across her face. "I was checking something."

"What? Did you see something?" Thranduil's voice became serious instantly.

Azriel inwardly chuckled at his concern. "No, I was checking to see whether or not you would follow me."

Thranduil's face deadpanned. "Shut up."

Now Azriel laughed. "You're becoming more and more predictable, Prince. Why did you follow me this time?"

"I wanted to make sure you didn't run off, or get lost," he said. "Or get hurt," he added after a moment.

Azriel scoffed. "That's adorable, showing concern for me, who nearly killed you."

Thranduil rolled his eyes. "It's not that simple. I'm a prince, I'm supposed to look out for my people."

A strange feeling crept through Azriel when he spoke those words.

 _My people._

Much to Azriel's chagrin, she found that it was starting to seem less and less alien to her. She stared at Thranduil for a palpable moment, making him shift slightly.

"Well, I didn't run off, or get lost, or hurt. You're welcome to take your leave." She bowed in mockery, and Thranduil's mouth twisted in annoyance.

"Don't patronise me."

Azriel chuckled again. "Why do you keep sticking to me, Prince?"

The question threw Thranduil off slightly. She was always switching topic suddenly. It annoyed him to no end.

"I'm not sticking to you," he huffed.

Azriel raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Everywhere I look you seem to be."

Azriel waited for his retort, but he remained mute. His expression revealed very little, aside from a glance to the sky which indicated concern with the growing darkness.

Azriel pursed her lips and went over what Evanna had said once before to her.

 _I speculate that he probably fancies you._

With a slight note of hesitation in her voice, Azriel began, "Tell me, Prince Thranduil, do you love me?"

* * *

Thranduil's face microscopically froze. He was more than considerably displaced by the question, but deep down he somehow knew she was going to eventually get around to asking something like this. To Azriel's surprise he didn't flinch any more than that.

Calmly, and deliberately, he replied, "No."

Azriel waited for him to elaborate, but his lips remained firmly sealed.

After a pause she spoke again, this time with more sureness in her voice. "But you love Verona?"

This time Thranduil frowned. _Why is she mentioning Verona all of a sudden?_

Thranduil took a moment to think. _Did_ he love Verona? He let his thoughts fill with memories of her, from their early childhood up until now. She was always by his side, through thick and thin. They had grown up together, in all respects, and had shared the greatest moments of their lives with one another. When he thought back to their shared times, his heart never failed to warm. Truly, there was no one who could replace her in his heart. Not after all this time.

"I... yes," he said after a moment. Azriel silently nodded to herself, making Thranduil even more puzzled.

To his surprise she didn't seem dismayed or disconcerted in any way - as he had expected her to be. She was simply contemplative. Suddenly Thranduil wondered why he had expected such a reaction. Did he think _she_ was in love with _him_ to some degree?

 _What is her game this time?_

"I still don't understand one thing. Why are you both not married? She is beautiful, smart, and witty. I see no flaws that could reduce her quality as a queen."

Despite Azriel's unexpected compliments, Thranduil's gaze seemed to harden. "She is Silvan. The royal bloodline must be kept pure."

Azriel considered this information. "So what, you can only marry a Sindar? What about elves from other houses? Like Lorien, or Rivendell?"

The sky seemed to be reflecting Thranduil's sentiments at this moment.

"Any of the descendants of the royal houses, but it is still preferable to marry a Sindar."

Azriel crossed her arms. "That's stupid. You should be allowed to marry anyone you want."

"Who said I wanted to marry Verona?" Thranduil retorted, somewhat aggressively. All this talk about marriage was starting to get on his nerves.

"You love her, don't you? Why wouldn't you want to marry her?" Azriel raised an eyebrow at him, not noticing his suddenly bitter mood.

Thranduil sighed. "Just forget about it. It is not so simple."

Azriel rolled her eyes and stepped towards him. "Of course it is. You're just a coward."

The words stung, but Thranduil did not want to get into an argument about this subject. He had done so with himself too many times to count. It was exhausting with himself, he couldn't begin to imagine how long it would go on for with Azriel.

"Fine, I'm a coward, now leave it."

Azriel bit her lip. She hadn't seen this side of Thranduil till now. She made sure to take note of it.

Azriel was about to step past Thranduil and climb back up the slope, but stopped in her tracks at the sound of a bowstring snapping behind him. The momentary shock registered on Thranduil's face, and was immediately replaced by pain. When he turned Azriel saw an arrow embedded in his shoulder. Luckily for him his cloak was thick, and it hadn't lodged very deep. In an instant Azriel pulled him behind her, pulling her sword out of it's sheath and spreading her arms out to shield him as much as possible.

When she saw who was standing at the top of the slope, her mouth fell open in shock. Her hands fell to her sides, the blade clattering on the stone floor of the ruins. Her hands trembled, and her eyes were brimming with tears.

The assailant's eyes widened in recognition. "Aza?"

* * *

Thranduil saw the man standing at the top of the slope, his bow arm retracted momentarily. His first concern was how Azriel was going to deal with a bowman with a short sword from such a far distance. Somehow the man looked familiar. He was tall and wore suitable hunting attire in shades of blue, with an assortment of weapons on his back. His hair was dark and came down to his chin in a mass of thick waves. His face was rugged, and he had dark, murky brown eyes.

Thranduil nearly stopped breathing when he heard him utter Azriel's name. His lips parted in confusion when Azriel let her blade - her only weapon - drop from her fingers. The sound reverberated against the ancient pillars.

The man all but jumped down from the slope, and Azriel herself was taking small steps away from him, towards the man. Thranduil's hand was pressed into his shoulder, trying to lessen his own bleeding and pain. He was sure Azriel could handle herself, and so made no move to step forward with her.

 _She'll finish it soon enough..._

As they got closer, Azriel broke into a sprint, her eyes burning and the tears finally falling down her cheeks in a stream. The man too was running towards her, his eyes alight with relief. Azriel threw herself into his arms, and he lifted her off the ground and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. She buried her face in his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck tightly - as if she never wanted to let go.

Thranduil stood with his mouth open and his confusion ever-present. Suddenly a thought registered. The man he saw before him was the same man in Azriel's painting.

 _Liar._

* * *

Aza's heart was overflowing with relief and joy. She let out a tense breath, and finally released her embrace. When her feet were firmly planted on the ground, she tilted her chin up and the two of them shared a chaste kiss. She spoke first.

"Azriel, what are you doing here? How did you know where we were?"

The man ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. He looked exhausted.

"My father sent me. I'm relieved to see you safe. What of Evanna?" Immediately his voice took on a note of concern for their mutual friend.

"She's fine. We are fine. Is Maro here already?" Aza's eyes conveyed all the fear Azriel already knew she held for his father.

"No. He's near Lake Town. He sent me here because we hadn't searched here yet. I'm so glad he didn't decide to come himself."

Aza visibly relaxed, and turned slightly to see Thranduil still standing with his lips parted in surprise. She instantly reddened. She had completely forgotten about his presence, and suddenly felt embarrassed for embracing Azriel so overtly. She avoided his eyes, and Azriel caught the motion, and tilted his head to see what she was looking at.

As soon as Thranduil came into his field of vision, he tensed and stepped in front of Aza.

"Who is that?"

Aza put her hand on his arm. "He is Prince Thranduil of the Greenwood. We took shelter in his kingdom."

Azriel's expression softened and he took a few steps forward. Thranduil was about to take a defensive stance, but stopped in his tracks when Azriel spoke.

"Prince Thranduil, I am in your debt."

* * *

Thranduil didn't think anything could be more surprising than what he had just witnessed. Yet, here was something that could. His first feeling when Azriel had embraced the man was that of confusion, but it soon turned to momentary disgust. An elf with a _man?_ It was unthinkable.

Now Azriel, the man, was just a few paces away from him. When they were just an arms distance from each other, Azriel extended his arm and placed his hand on Thranduil's shoulder amiably. From behind, Aza suppressed a momentary look of surprise.

"I must thank you profusely. You have kept my kinsman safe all this time."

 _His kinsman? Is he talking about Aza and Eva?_

Of course, he must have been. After all, the way Aza had just embraced this man indicated their relationship clearly enough. A strange feeling swept through Thranduil. It may have been dismay, or hurt.

"Who are you?" Was all Thranduil could think to ask at that moment.

"I am Azriel."

Now Thranduil frowned, his confusion at its peak.

" _You_ are Azriel? She is Azriel!" Thranduil pointed to Aza, who was still standing away from them.

Azriel chuckled knowingly. "Yes, we share the same name. It is confusing at times, but it is what it is."

Now Aza approached them, somewhat tentatively. "Azriel, when are you leaving?"

She didn't sound like she wanted him to leave, in fact it was the opposite, but she knew he couldn't stay in any one place for too long. Maro's would no doubt become suspicious. After all, he very well knew their relationship.

"I should have left hours ago. I'm supposed to be in Lorien."

Aza didn't hide the look of disappointment on her face. Her face so vulnerable and innocent, it moved Thranduil to see her in such a state. It made her seem like a normal woman.

Aza sighed and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I understand. I'll tell Eva I met you. _Please be safe._ " The last sentence was in a language Thranduil could not understand. It was the same one she and Evanna had used with each other during their first interrogation.

Azriel turned to Aza and placed his hand against her cheek. She leaned into it, enjoying the cold touch of his skin on hers. She missed it more than anything.

He replied in the same language. _"I hope you are well. I promise I'll see you soon. Give my love to Eva."_

Aza nodded. _"I love you."_

Azriel smiled. _"I love you, too."_

Somehow, Thranduil knew what they had said without understanding it. That was the thing about love. You didn't need to hear the words to know the sentiment. He could see it in her eyes - the same light that Verona's shone with whenever she looked at him a certain way. Thranduil used to think it was his imagination, but this time he was sure.

She was truly in love.

* * *

A while later they climbed back up the slope to the clearing where Thranduil's and Aza's horses were grazing. The sky was overcast with clouds, and a light chill was in the air. Thranduil had followed about a minute after the two Azriels had ascended the slope, and rose to find them embracing, only this time it was not so chaste as before. Azriel's hands cupped Aza's face, and he pressed his mouth against hers with such urgency Thranduil was forced to look away. He felt horribly intrusive to be witnessing this reunion, but he couldn't help where he was. He briefly wondered what would have happened if he hadn't followed her, and they had met alone.

 _Would she have run away?_

When Thranduil looked back to them it was just Aza standing alone by her horse, her hands limp by her sides. She looked lost and disoriented. Thranduil couldn't say he sympathised, or had any notion of what she was feeling at that moment. He saw her clench her fingers into a fist, then stretch them out.

When she turned around she looked the same as always, with a slightly upturned lip and a subtle grace to her movements.

Thranduil approached her somewhat cautiously at first, but then clenched his jaw and strode to her decisively. He had had enough of not knowing.

He pulled out his broadsword from its sheath in a flourish, effectively startling Aza out of her wits. He took no time in bringing the blade's edge up to her throat.

Aza's eyes widened visibly, and she was too stunned to move. Her hands were frozen in place, and her lips had parted in surprise - though she said nothing.

Thranduil felt a pang of guilt at raising his weapon against Azriel, whom he had sworn to protect, but nevertheless he had too many unanswered questions.

To hide the uncertainty of his thoughts, he pressed the blade against her neck and kept his gaze placid.

"Start talking."

* * *

 **I know it is confusing that Azriel and Aza have the same names, sorry about that. But I don't want to change it because it's an important part of the development of their relationship. Everytime there are scenes with both of them, the man will be referred to as Azriel, while the elf as Aza.**


	20. Bitter Sweet Memories

**BITTER SWEET MEMORIES**

* * *

Out of all the reactions Azriel had expected from Thranduil, him threatening to slice her neck off hadn't crossed her mind as even a remote possibility. Yet here they were.

The cool edge of the blade was a small source of relief in her current predicament. She silently waited for something to happen. She waited for him to say something more, to _demand_ something more, but he remained as he was - with a hard look in his eyes and a clenched jaw. His mouth was set in a grim, determined line.

She waited for him to cut her.

He didn't.

"What do you want me to say?"

Thranduil's eyes darted for a split second. She couldn't tell what that meant in the least.

"You can't hide with me, with us, any longer if you refuse to tell me why."

Azriel's thoughts were surprisingly calm. She had only three options: Remain silent and risk losing sanctuary; Tell him everything and risk his judgement; Or tell him only parts of the truth, as she had been doing up until now. She sucked in a deep breath through slightly parted lips and looked everywhere but at Thranduil's face. She didn't want to see his expression when she brought her hand up to touch his sword, still pressed against her throat.

"You really want to know? I will show you."

Azriel wrapped her fingers around the flat of the blade and pressed with her palm, turning her chin slightly. The sharp edge sliced the skin of her neck like a knife through butter. The blood was a deep red against her pale skin as it spilled out of the wound, running down her throat and staining the collar of her garb. When she looked at Thranduil her face was placid, but his expression was one of horror. He had been too stunned to pull the blade back, or even to drop it. His fingers were white and stiff around the hilt of the sword, unmoving.

Azriel couldn't feel anything at all, aside from the warmness of the blood, still dripping, albeit more slowly.

She pushed the sword back and turned so she was facing him fully. Thranduil finally dropped his sword. A myriad of expressions passed over his face within the span of a few seconds: Confusion, fear, concern, surprise, hurt, awe; Azriel couldn't separate them.

He still hadn't said anything.

She pressed a finger into the wound, causing even more blood to ooze out. Thranduil took a step forward, but Azriel held her hand up to stop him.

"I can't feel it. I can't feel anything at all."

* * *

Luckily Azriel had known where to cut, else she would have choked on her own blood. The wound was not deep, nor anywhere near any vital vessels, so it would be a simple job to patch it up. Thranduil certainly wanted to, but Azriel seemed least interested. She sat down where she was standing, looking away from Thranduil for the most part., her eyes focused intently on a pebble by her feet. He approached her as if she were prey, easily startled and afraid. She wasn't in the least, though. He crouched down next to her and reached his hand out, not sure why he was doing so in the first place. Just before his fingers grazed the edge of the cut, she looked back at him sharply.

"It doesn't hurt. I'm fine."

"If you lose all your blood you won't be."

She looked away. "I've had much worse untreated," she muttered. He heard it clearly enough.

From the moment the first drops of blood had stained more than a dozen questions had bubbled up in Thranduil's mind. But the instant she sat down all of them vanished, and all that remained was the lingering concern, the sheer need to fix her.

Azriel, still unconcerned, heaved a sigh.

"The Legion, where I came from, is south of here." _The Legion, where I was taken,_ was what she thought.

Thranduil sat down beside her, his eyes still glued to the wound on her neck, though he was listening intently. She was still avoiding his gaze.

"It's not like how you probably think it is. It is actually quite like your home here, if a little less extravagant. The Legion is a weapon, composed of many blades, but it is not soulless. There were people and creatures from all races, working and breaking bread together. It was a real family for me. Each person had their place at the table."

Her eyes sparkled with memories that Thranduil could only wish he was privy to. He wondered, if it was as she had described, what made her decide to leave. But she seemed to be lost in thought, so he didn't probe.

"I wasn't born this way, without pain," she began again suddenly. "When we first got there they asked us, me and Evanna, what kind of pain we were most afraid of. Pain of the mind or pain of the body." Azriel wrapped her arms around her knees before she continued. "Evanna chose pain of the mind, and I chose pain of the body. So they helped us get rid of it. I cannot speak for what Evanna went through, but for me, they exorcised it. They got rid of all my pain by first making me experience it at its highest intensity."

Thranduil frowned, and she knew he was confused just by the silence between them.

"Torture, if you don't get my meaning." She smiled absently. "They destroyed all sense of feeling in my body. But the consequence was that if I could not experience pain of the body, I would experience pain of the mind tenfold. That is why I cannot sleep alone. The memory of the exorcism still haunts my dreams. If I sleep alone my body will be able to feel all the pain that it had been taught to forget. It is my worst, my greatest fear."

Each word she spoke seemed to weigh on Thranduil's shoulders, as if it was somehow his fault. He was appalled and intrigued at the same time.

"Why? Why did they do that to you?" he asked, in somewhat hushed tones, as if saying it too loudly would make it all the more horrible. All the more real. He still couldn't believe it was real.

"A prophecy, obviously." A note of bitterness in her voice. "I didn't leave because they did that to me. No, that was the greatest gift of all, because it freed me from my fear of pain. Evanna and I ran away because our King was trying to kill us."

Now the questions began to resurface. _King? Kill them? Why?_

"Your King?"

"Yes, we had a King," she said. Why was she speaking in past tense, as if he wasn't her King even now? He most certainly was. She was branded as his subject, after all. "King Maro. He saw a prophecy about me and Evanna. That's why we were taken from here, more than a century ago."

Thranduil nodded. Everything was starting to become more clear. "What prophecy?"

"The King's child is going to reign over the darkness in the east, at least as the prophecy goes. The bearer of that child was supposed to be either me or Evanna. To choose his bride, Maro was going to force me and Evanna into a duel to the death. Neither of us wanted that, so we escaped." She ran through the words, not really thinking as she said them.

For a moment there was silence, then Azriel cast her gaze downwards. She found herself missing him - Maro - of all people. She remembered how he had welcomed them there, taken care of them, _raised_ them, trained them, and everything that had happened since. And with one decree from him their whole world had shattered. They could never go back to that easy camaraderie, and as much as it hurt to think that, it was the truth.

But still, she missed him. She missed his laugh, more than anything. She knew she would never hear it again. She would never see his smiling face, beaming with pride for his strongest warriors. His 'Fears', he had called them.

Even though she had just seen Azriel not fifteen minutes ago, her heart felt heavy. She felt a knot twisting inside her, and an ache behind her eyes. It was getting harder to breathe.

This was pain of the mind, what she could not escape no matter how strong her body was.

She knew she was going to cry, and she knew she didn't want Thranduil to see it.

* * *

From one of the many sacks hanging from his horse's saddle, Thranduil pulled out a bandage, a needle and thread, and a few vials of greenish liquid. He said nothing as he laid out his materials on the ground next to Azriel, whose chin was turned away from him. Pulling her hair out of the way, he inspected the wound. She didn't so much as flinch when he touched her. He used a clean cloth to wipe away the blood, grazing her skin with his fingers and finding it cold as ice.

He was about to say 'Tell me if it hurts,' but realised the pointlessness of doing so a moment later.

Without waiting for her approval he threaded the needle and got to work. It was simple, and far too quiet, since Azriel could feel nothing but a slight pressure against her neck. When it was all done Thranduil poured some of the pale green liquid on his fingers and rubbed it over the cut. It smelled like citrus and felt warm on Thranduil's skin. Azriel felt only wetness, nothing more.

Up until now Thranduil had all but forgotten about the arrow wound in his back. It was hardly anything to worry about, but it reminded him of another question he had.

"Who was that man who shot me?"

Azriel replied, listless, "Azriel. Maro's son. You could say he is the Prince of the Legion, but there they use no titles other than King."

She had said it again, _they,_ like she was not one of them. Now, she was starting to think she really wasn't. She couldn't go back there, after all.

Thranduil did not probe further. He unrolled the bandage and placed it gently against Azriel's skin, wrapping it around her neck and pulling slightly to keep it tight. It was difficult to imagine that she couldn't feel any of it. When the bandage was in place he gathered his materials and put them away. Azriel still sat in the same place, as unmoving as ever.

Thranduil sat back down by her, and reached his hand out towards her wrist. She didn't resist when he took it, but she did furrow her brow in confusion. Tears were still brimming her eyes, not shed as yet, and the ache inside her had not dulled. Thranduil pulled her wrist with unexpected urgency, forcing her to turn to him. And, without looking her in the eye, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into a hug. It was not like how she had been embraced by Azriel earlier, with force and urgency and relief. It was gentle and cautious, but relieving all the same.

"You are safe with me," he whispered. The sky had grown dark, and the trees were silent. Even the horses didn't utter a sound. His voice was all she could hear.

Azriel did not know how to feel. Her heart wanted to retaliate, and her mind wanted to defend against all his kindness. As far as she could tell, she did not deserve it. He had no reason to give anything to her, yet he did. She desperately wanted to say she didn't need it. She desperately wanted to scoff at him and tell him she could take care of herself. But she couldn't. Right now, she couldn't.

She had never felt so helpless in her life as in that moment, frozen in his embrace.

Finally her eyelids closed and the tears streamed in an unbroken flow. She leaned into him, freeing herself of her pain. The small consolation she could give herself was that he hadn't see her cry.

But even if he hadn't seen, he knew.

* * *

 **This is such a senti chapter lol.**

 **More ACTION next chapter I promise :P**


	21. Along Came A Spider

**I feel so happy about all the positive feedback this fic is receiving! Thank you to all my readers, especially those who have stuck with this fic since chapter one - you guys know how long I take to update, but you're still here. Thank you for that.**

* * *

 **ALONG CAME A SPIDER**

* * *

By now the sky was shaded with grey clouds, and the last rays of the sun were disappearing behind the horizon. The rest of the hunt had probably already returned to the palace with their kills. Thranduil was growing more concerned by the minute. After he double checked Azriel's wound, they mounted their horses and picked out a path to follow back to the palace. They walked in silence, with Azriel a few paces ahead. She didn't once turn back to look at him. Her golden hair looked dull in the shade, but whenever she tilted her head slightly he caught sight of the bright blue glint of her irises - still crystal clear as ever.

They had barely been travelling a few minutes when the horses began acting up. Azriel, who was already exhausted, didn't pay much attention to it, but Thranduil could sense that something was wrong. He shushed his mare, but no amount of cooing sounds seemed to work. Thranduil tugged on the reigns and Azriel's horse also stopped, as if under his command.

Azriel frowned and tapped her heels against her horse's flank. "What is it?"

Thranduil couldn't tell if she was asking him or the horses.

The trees rustled, and the wind began picking up speed. Thranduil's eyes darted through the high branches of the trees, then to the undergrowth, scanning for anything peculiar. He dismounted his horse in a fluid motion and stepped forward, offering a hand to Azriel to help her down.

"What is the problem?" she asked, keeping her fingers wrapped around the reigns.

"I don't know." Thranduil let his hand drop to his side, and looked around again. "Something isn't right."

Azriel's mouth twisted in annoyance. "Let's just go. It's probably just the spirits getting restless because Azriel is still here. He's a stranger after all."

Thranduil frowned. Her explanation seemed plausible, but he wasn't convinced.

"There's some-"

He stopped short when the forest floor became shrouded in darkness. Azriel looked up, and her eyes widened in horror. Above them, hanging from the low branches, was a massive, hairy black spider. It hissed, the sound causing the tree trunks to shake and quiver. The branches bent and tensed under its weight. Azriel's chest rose and fell steadily and her hands moved from the reigns to the sack on the saddle, where her long sword was sheathed. Thranduil in the meantime was stepping over the undergrowth and back to his horse. The three of them stood in a delicate, glass silence, on the verge of shattering at the slightest whisper. The horses stirred, but they hadn't looked up so they didn't know of the threat just yet.

Just as Thranduil's and Azriel's fingers closed around the hilts of their swords, the spider let out another hiss and dropped from its perch on the tree. When it landed, Thranduil and Azriel were hit with a wave of force. Azriel held out her arms to keep her balance, but the force proved too much and she leaned over too far. Her eyes widened as her foot came out of the stirrup and she fell off the horse. Thranduil himself had been thrown to the ground.

"Azriel!" he yelled, looking over his shoulder for her. For a moment he forgot that she couldn't feel pain. His eyes betrayed all his concern.

She stood up, unfazed. Her sword had fallen out of its sheath a few paces away. Their horses were in a panic, only aggravating the spider even more. They neighed and snorted loudly, rearing up and kicking wildly. Thranduil moved out of the way to the cover of a bush, but the spider was not stupid. It let out another formidable shrill hiss, causing the horses to cower and dart away as fast as their legs would allow.

It was just the three of them.

Through the hissing Thrnaduil could make out words strung into an incomprehensible sentence in the common tongue. Azriel wasted no time in picking up her sword and taking a battle stance. Thranduil raised his broadsword, which reflected the deep red of the spider's eyes. It seemed to spot its own reflection, and let out another hiss in response.

"Filthy elves!" it screeched. This time the words were crystal clear.

Thranduil held his sword across his chest as a shield, and watched Azriel approach. She was completely unguarded, her sword arm hanging by her side. There was a disinterested glaze in her eyes. She stopped abruptly and said something to the spider in a language Thranduil couldn't understand. The spider seemed to understand clearly enough though, because it instantly turned away from Thranduil and towards Azriel.

Another breadth of silence.

Azriel brought her sword up to meet the spider's sudden charge, her arm shuddering against the impact. The spider wasted no time shooting webs out of its mouth, aimed straight at Aza. Thranduil flanked the spider and swung his sword in an arc, cutting through its leathery skin as if through gossamer. The spider reared up, towering several feet over Azriel's hunched body. It's legs kicked out, but Thranduil dodged expertly. Azriel tried to take a step forward, but her foot remained in place. When she looked down she saw it was stuck to the ground, covered in a heap of sticky white web. She pulled harder, but in vain.

"Thranduil, I'm stuck!" she called out, glancing frantically for the prince through the thick undergrowth. The spider's hulking form blocked most of her view.

As Thranduil engaged the spider Azriel worked on cutting her foot free from the tangled fibres. Just as she lifted her foot from the ground she was flung over the undergrowth and into a tree trunk with such force that the bark cracked behind her back. She fell to the ground in a heap, but got up without blinking. The long sleeves of her hunting outfit were beginning to tear and whither. She still couldn't see Thranduil.

Azriel turned her mind to the tree she had just been thrown against. She pulled herself up with one arm onto the lowest branch with ease, and deftly climbed up to the higher ones without effort despite carrying a sword with her. Below her the spider's hairy, leathery body pulsed and flexed with effort against Thranduil's sword. She could see him now, blocked by the spider's legs. The spider was bleeding all over the undergrowth, staining the forest floor black. She extended her sword arm, ready to land a blow on its exposed back.

"Thranduil!"

He looked up for a split second and spotted her up in the tree. He nodded his chin slightly and raised his sword. It would be over in a few seconds.

Without wasting her breath on a battle cry, Azriel leapt from the branch and pulled her blade back, ready to strike on landing. She landed with a soft thud and simultaneously thrust the knife into the spider's back - all the way till the hilt. The spider shrieked and bucked violently, but Azriel held on to the sword tightly enough to stay on its back. What she did not bank on was the spider attacking her while she was perched there.

One of the spider's legs bent over backwards, its claws extended to grab her. Azriel let go of the hilt in a panic, but it was too late. The spider wrapped its claws around her frame. Azriel heard the shearing sound of the claws cutting through her flimsy leather chest guard and shirt as she was flung over the spider's head. She heard Thranduil yell something, probably her name, but the wind was too fast against her ears to make out what he was saying.

When she lifted herself off the ground - for the umpteenth time - the spider lay in a pathetic heap on the ground, Thranduil's sword protruding from its eye. From where she stood she could see the glint of her own knife still embedded in the creature's back. Thranduil came around from behind it just as Azriel began dusting herself off. She looked up to meet his wide eyes.

"What is it?"

She followed his gaze, which was focused on her chin. Her sleeves and collar were ripped to shreds, revealing the skin of her arms, neck, shoulders - everything she had tried to keep hidden. Her skin bunched and puckered, written on with swords and pikes and red-hot iron rods. A myriad of scars recounting her history. She hated it.

"So, Prince," she looked up from her tattered clothes, "now you see me."

* * *

As they emerged from the trees the palace gate came into view, and Azriel abruptly pulled on her horse's reins.

"What's wrong?" Thranduil asked, pulling his horse up along side her.

Azriel looked at him. "You know what's wrong."

Thranduil looked down at her arms, his stomach twisting, then looked away. "I would have thought you wouldn't care for such marks."

"Well, you thought wrong." Her voice was icy - more so than he had ever heard before.

Without a word Thranduil pulled off his cloak and leaned to the side to drape it over Azriel's shoulders.

"You won't say anything."

It was not a request, or a question.

"I won't say anything."

They rode on.

* * *

Azriel had barely taken ten steps into the hall before the whispering began. She could make out a variety of words and sentences, but the general premise was the same:

"She wearing Prince Thranduil's cloak!"

"Why is she wearing Prince Thranduil's cloak?!"

Thranduil acted as though he were deaf, leaving Azriel and heading to his own chambers without a second thought. He was smarter than she gave him credit for. After a while the excitement died down and the halls were silent again. As Azriel turned into the passage leading to her room, a hand seized the cloak and yanked it backwards. Azriel clutched at the edges, hugging the cloak around her and turning on her heel.

Her eyebrows shot up. Her assailant was Verona.

"What are you doing, Verona?"

Her eyes narrowed. "What am I doing? What are _you_ doing?"

Azriel looked puzzled. "I'm trying to get to my chambers?"

Verona scoffed. "You know what I'm talking about, Aza." She made a pointed jab at Azriel's shoulder. "Why are you wearing Thranduil's cloak?"

"It was cold."

Verona crossed her arms. "No it wasn't. I have been outside all evening."

Azriel rolled her eyes. "Why is this so important to you?"

"It isn't."

Azriel sighed. "If you want the cloak that much I'll give it to you after I change out of my hunting garb, will that make you happy?"

Verona faltered. "You'll _give_ it to me?"

 _How could she possibly think of giving something like that away? Should I be angry or grateful?_

"Yes, that's what I said."

"He didn't give it to you because you were cold." Verona's voice was less serious now, but still accusing.

"No, he didn't."

Verona's eyes widened, and though she tried to hide the expression of hurt, she couldn't.

Azriel chuckled. "You really think it's something like that? You elves are as simple as the basest men."

"... It isn't?"

Azriel's amused eyes softened. "You claim to know him so well, but are so quick to accuse. Perhaps you should aim your questions at him and not me."

She left Verona standing in the hall, speechless.

* * *

 **Yeah so... This was short...**


	22. Raven's Call

**RAVEN'S CALL**

* * *

Once the door was firmly shut behind her Azriel slumped against it and closed her eyes. Her heart shook beneath her ribs with uncertainty and hurt and humiliation.

 _He saw me. He saw me. He saw all of me. He saw everything._

If one knew her they would think such a base thing as appearance wouldn't matter to her - but there was a reason she always wore full-sleeves and high collars. A reason she never let her arms, her body, show. Only her face and hands were unblemished from the years of exorcism her body had been put through. All to get rid of the pain.

" _What is your greatest fear, young Azriel? Pain of the body, or pain of the mind?"_

It had been such a simple answer.

" _Pain of the body."_

And then they had stripped her naked and prodded her, sliced her up and burned her over a fire. She couldn't remember the feeling, but she knew it had happened. Whenever she thought about the whole thing it was like she was observing herself from afar - saddened but detached and unaffected. She preferred it that way.

But now Thranduil had seen her. The rawness of her. She frowned.

 _What does it matter?_

She was Azriel's and only Azriel's. What others thought meant nothing.

So why did it hurt so much?

* * *

For the next few days it was a challenge to avoid Thranduil. He still had questions at the tip of his tongue and wanted answers urgently. He would knock on their door, but find Azriel gone. Evanna covered for her without seeming unnatural, but Thranduil wasn't stupid. He knew when he was not wanted.

Verona on the other hand had decided to take Azriel's advice.

She had confronted Thranduil about the whole issue of Azriel and his cloak, but his answers were less than satisfactory.

"How was yesterday's hunt?" she had asked nonchalantly. They were in his room, standing on the balcony and looking over a network of gardens.

"It was fruitful, though not overly exciting."

He was somewhat lying. The information he had extracted from Azriel had rekindled the curiosity in him that had snuffed out when his father left for the war. There was so much more he had to find out.

"I saw that our new kin also joined you. How did they enjoy it?"

Thranduil shrugged. "I assume they found it entertaining. They didn't say anything to indicate otherwise."

Verona pursed her lips, annoyed that she was getting next to nowhere. She couldn't tell if Thranduil was deliberately beating around the bush or genuinely had no idea.

"What about Aza? You two came back together quite late! I got worried."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "About me or her?"

Verona opened her mouth, hesitating for a moment before replying. "Both of you, of course. Lately she and I have been getting on better terms..."

Thranduil's mouth turned up at the corners. "I could say the same. She no longer vexes me."

Now Verona could tell he was definitely being deliberate. She gave him a pointed look. "You still didn't answer the question."

"What question?"

"Why did you two come back together? And so late?"

"She veered off the path, and then we were attacked by a spider."

"You followed her," she clarified.

He nodded. "She could have got lost. And if I wasn't there the spider would have surely injured her. Or worse."

Verona squinted, still unconvinced. "Why did you give her your cloak?"

Thranduil knew what line of questioning Verona was pursuing, and he gave her an amused look. "Why do you think?"

"I can't fathom why. You have never given it to anyone, even me."

"You always have a cloak with you," he said pointedly. Verona scowled and turned away, looking down at the greenery.

"Well," she said after a while, "why did you give it to her?"

There really was no point lying to Verona. She could see through everything when it came to Thranduil. All he could do was skim over the details. "Her clothes had ripped in the fight against the spider. Is that a sufficient answer?"

Verona's eyes widened and she looked at him, her cheeks red. "I..."

 _Of course Thranduil would have given her his cloak for that reason..._

Suddenly she laughed. It all seemed silly now. "I'll have to apologize to Aza."

"Why?"

"I accused her of some...things."

Thranduil's eyes widened in shock. "Why would you do that?! That's so unlike you, Verona." He was profoundly disappointed in her. "I would never do anything like that. You _know_ that."

Verona avoided his eye and said nothing.

Thranduil was silent for a moment, deciding what to say. "Besides," he said, tucking a stray hair behind his ear, "she already has someone."

Verona's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "Really?! Who?! Surely not Seravi?"

Thranduil laughed, breaking the odd tension that had grown between them. "No, by the Valar no. Someone outside our kingdom. Someone from her old life."

Verona stuck her bottom lip out and nodded, suddenly intrigued. "I must ask her about it."

"No," Thranduil snapped. Verona jumped at his outburst, and Thranduil instantly regretted being so forceful.

"I mean... It brings up bad memories for her, so you should just avoid it."

Verona squinted. "How do you know so much about her bad memories?"

He shrugged. "I just asked, and she told me. Not much, but enough."

Verona nodded but was still unconvinced by the simplicity of his explanation. "I guess I'll leave it alone then. I hope she isn't too troubled."

"As do I," he mumbled.

* * *

A few days later a letter arrived by way of a raven. It was received by the guards at the South Gate and handed to a herald. It carried a seal from Rivendell.

News from the war

The news spread quickly and soon a large number of elves had gathered in the Throne Room, including Azriel and Evanna. Verona and Thranduil stood side by side, and Themra stood amidst them all, trying in vain to establish some order. The herald cleared his throat and held out the scroll to break the seal. The wax snapped with a crack and he unrolled it with a flourish.

Again he cleared his throat, but he hesitated.

"I... I cannot read it," he stammered, looking at Themra helplessly. She frowned and snatched the scroll from him, holding it out in front of her. It was written in Tengwar script but the grammatical construction was hard to decipher. She frowned, then realised it was written in Quenya - High elven - a dialect hardly in conventional use in this age.

The first portion of the letter had to do with the state of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men in the war.

Themra cleared her throat and began reading it aloud.

"The Battle of Dagorlad has finally come to a conclusion. The Last Alliance of Elves and Men has prevailed."

Several cheers and murmurs of excitement erupted from the crowd. Themra paused, then continued.

"The fighting force has been depleted by several tens of thousands, but still many more have survived through the onslaught. The Morannon was successfully breached and the seige of Barad-dûr commenced shortly after. In this too the Alliance prevailed, marking another great victory. However the victory was not without loss. The darkness has been defeated, and will not reveal itself for another thousand years, but to achieve this many lives were lost."

A hush fell over the crowd.

"The great warriors and leaders Gil-Galad and Elendil fell in battle against the mighty Sauron, sacrificing their lives to unmake the One Ring. In this they were successful, and with their action the Last Alliance of Elves and Men is dissolved."

Themra paused, reading further. Her expression changed from curiosity to one of horror.

"The... King Oropher of the Woodland Realm, King over the Greenwood, who so..." Themra took a moment to decipher the following words before continuing, "Who so selflessly aided the Alliance with his command and his troops, has..."

Her heart leapt, but she kept her face placid. She drew in a sharp breath.

"Has passed."

Gasps and cries and shouts filled the room. Instantly the atmosphere of victory and joy turned sombre.

Thranduil stood frozen. He was aware of eyes turning to him. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Azriel, finally seeing her since the hunt for the first time. She was looking at him with pensive eyes. Verona held his arm and squeezed, but he could hardly feel anything at all. Suddenly all the sound became a dull thudding beneath his ears.

 _King Oropher has passed._ The words filled his mind. He couldn't comprehend them.

He strode forward and snatched the scroll from his mother's delicate hands and skimmed over it till he found the portion at the end which spoke of King Oropher.

 _King Oropher of the Woodland Realm, King over the Greenwood, who so selflessly aided the Alliance with his command and his troops, has passed. Attached herewith is the King's seal. By the Final Decree of King Oropher, the subsequent King of the Woodland Realm is named his son Thranduil, of Sindarin descent._

Thranduil blinked slowly. He read it again.

The words didn't change.

* * *

There would also be the matter of the coronation. Thranduil closed his eyes, imagining himself sitting in his father's ornate wooden throne, a crown on his head and a staff in his hand. It wasn't hard to imagine - he had done so before. The fact that it was all going to be _real_ was what was hard to imagine. This time tomorrow he would be sitting there, instructing his court officials and the other important nobles. His body seemed to feel the stress his mind was under and began aching.

There was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" he said, so softly it could only have been heard by an elf.

"The Lady Verona," a herald announced.

Before Thranduil could tell him to send her away the door opened of its own accord. Thranduil stood up to see Verona, a look of concern marring her smooth face. Without warning she grabbed his hand.

"How are you?"

He pulled his hand out of her grip. "I'm fine."

She stepped closer to him and tilted her chin up to meet his eyes. "You are not. I know you, Thranduil. Please just speak to me. If you do not it will continue hurting you."

"I'm fine."

"The whole palace has prepared for mourning."

Thranduil blinked, only noticing her black dress now. He had never seen her in anything so dark before. It made her look even paler than she was. It was too harsh a contrast. He hated it.

"But you have not."

Thranduil pressed his lips into a thin, bloodless line. "I... I still cannot..."

"You _must_ accept this, Thranduil," Verona said, a strange power in her voice that Thranduil had never heard. "The King is gone. The people will be looking to you." She reached a hand out and pressed it against his chest. "Calm your heart, Thranduil. King Thranduil."

"Leave."

Verona clenched her teeth and turned on her heel, painfully aware of how close Thranduil was to snapping. When she reached the door she looked over her shoulder and gave Thranduil one last mournful look.

"I am here."

He said nothing.

She left.

* * *

He did not leave his chambers since the announcement. His mother was veiled, clad in black, as was the rest of the palace. She was putting on her best, calmest face for the people. She had already composed a letter to Rivendell enquiring about Oropher's remains, and was now preparing the palace for the funeral. There would be a simple ceremony, with all the Sindarin present. She had already begun planning Thranduil's coronation.

Thranduil heard all of this from the guards outside his rooms. He did not even know if his mother had shed a tear.

Elves were immortal, but they could fade. If there was a great enough loss they could fade to dust, turn into nothing. Thranduil had seen what the loss of a spouse could do to an elf. He had seen many fade, others close to fading but finally saved. And this was not the loss of a mere spouse, but a King. Many others could fade from this loss besides himself and his mother.

He prayed that he would not fade.

* * *

As the sun set Thranduil stepped out onto the balcony. Just days ago he had been jousting with Verona about Azriel, and now there was just his loss.

 _King Thranduil._

It sounded foreign on his tongue, in his mind. His mouth could not form the words.

A faint humming pulled him away from his thoughts. He leaned over the balcony and peered down, trying to locate the source of the voice. By the moonlight he could make out two figures, but he heard only one voice. The humming turned into a few lone words, then into a song.

It was Evanna. Thranduil did not even have to guess who the other elf was. He listened intently, trying to make out the words. It was Quenya, the same dialect the letter had been written in. The song was profoundly old, recounting battles that had occurred thousands of years before Thranduil was ever born.

After a while he saw Azriel move. She began turning, slowly at first, then in time with Evanna's melody. Her voice was soft and sweet as honey, but powerful and clear.

And so beneath the moonlight an elf sang and another elf danced, and above them the future King watched, his heart finally calm.

* * *

 **WOW my earliest update ever. (I wrote this super fast, like in one sitting. I'm quite proud of myself).**


	23. King Thranduil

**KING THRANDUIL**

* * *

It hardly took a week for the black sombre palace to turn to one of gold and green for the auspicious day of Thranduil's coronation. Themra had no missteps, no hesitation in her orders, and no signs of distress. She would not fade. The blue-grey of Thranduil's eyes had dulled somewhat, and he had his hair left loose, falling over his eyes even when he was out of his chambers - if ever. No one dared to make a comment about it except for Verona, who was easily forgiven.

The weight on Thranduil's shoulders had only grown since the day they had received the letter. Fatigue washed over him in waves even when he hardly exerted himself. His cheeks had lost their peach tinge.

There was only one day left till he would have to walk through the throne room, lined on both sides by the court officials, their families, the nobles, the common elves - as many as could be accommodated. Themra had instructed him countless times in the ceremonies, but it had passed around him like a cloud of fog. There was a staff, wrapped in silver threads and encrusted with washed out rubies and emeralds. The crown was silver, gold, and woven with branches of seasonal trees and flowers. It was autumn, so the throne itself donned warm leaves of red and oak brown. A high elf had been escorted from Lothlorien to perform the ceremony and formal coronation. Thranduil did not even know his name, but he was old enough for it to show on his face.

Thranduil sat in his mother's solar on a plush chair of green velvet. The autumn sun was unexpectedly bright for the time of day, so he sat facing away from the window. It was the quietest room in the entire palace. Even the library was not this sequestered. The carpet was a plain sky blue, the curtains were thick and voluminous. Against one wall stood an ebony cabinet with an empty candlestick on it. There was a round mirror, whose frame had thin gold leaf woven into it. The door to the solar opened into an antechamber connected to his parent's room. It also led to his father's study. It was in some ways a companion to the solar - though it had a white cabinet instead of black, and more silvery decorations instead of gold.

The King's study. Thranduil had not entered it since his father had left for the war. He had forgotten what the inside looked like without the figure of his father sitting at the desk, and he didn't want to know.

 _One more day._

Only one more day of this childishness.

He sat there motionless for hours. Themra had come and gone several times, once bringing Verona, another time bringing Seravi, once alone, once with Leilath. He had not moved.

As the sun began set over the Greenwood he finally rose, his black and gold robes flowing behind him. From behind he would have appeared as a dragon. His wine glass on the table beside the chair was still half full when he left the solar. He paused in the antechamber and ran a hand through his hair. There were four doors. One was plain oak - the exit, another was black and engraved with patterns. The third was an ashen grey wood carved with a depiction of a great battle. there was a circle of Tengwar in the centre that read 'For all who are lost, will return. And all who have returned, shall pass.' There was no knob on the door.

Thranduil stepped towards it, stretched his palm forward and pressed it into the circle. For a moment the grey wood glowed, then the door opened by itself. He stepped inside.

* * *

The sun had set, plunging the throne room into darkness but for the two low flames burning beside the throne. The palace had descended into silence as the elves slowly returned to their rooms for the night. All but one.

Azriel, clad in an obsidian dress of leather and velvet, slipped through the towering doors as softly as a whisper. The flames hardly stirred as she glided through the room. The vaulted ceilings towered above her like the belly of a menacing dragon. Behind the throne there was a stained glass window looking over a glen. But Azriel's eyes where on the throne itself. In the quiet of the hour, the darkness of the night, it appeared as a faint shadow of branches rising from the ground into the air, like fallen trees coming to life. The flames flickered and the shadows danced with them.

Azriel sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes, feeling the emptiness in the room around her. Her eyes fluttered open and she started towards the torches. Her dress skimmed the cold stone floor,, disturbing the precious silence. She pulled a torch out of its stand and moved behind the throne. There was a narrow conduit where the oil ran through, and Azriel carefully lowered the flame into it. At once the darkness was swallowed by a sudden flush of light as the oil ignited and the room was illuminated. Soon the silence was restored, with only the gentle flickering of flames and the scrape of her dress against the floor.

Azriel quickly replaced the torch in its place beside the throne and made her way back to the front of the hall. The throne looked majestic in the firelight, like a living creature. It was raised on a dais about a metre high, and emitted a regal authority despite being devoid of an occupant. Azriel could not help but feel small in its presence. The throne of the King of the Legion was far more ostentatious and grand than this simple wooden one, yet it could not compare in terms of the power this one effused. Azriel could not explain the feeling. It was fear and awe, respect and allegiance flooding through her all at once.

Her lips parted slightly and she looked over her shoulder at the closed door, then back to the throne. She took short, measured steps forward till she reached the foot of the dais.

She climbed the steps.

* * *

Everything in the palace was quiet. Every sound that dared to rise was sucked up by the darkness in an instant. Thranduil's hushed footsteps traced a path down from the high tower to the Great Hall. His robes were too long and dragged behind him. Guards were present in only three major halls by Thranduil's eye, though he could have missed some due to his distracted state.

His father's study had been exactly the same, if a little darker than he was used to seeing. After lighting a few candles everything was as normal as it could have been. Thranduil felt nothing - no lingering presence of his father, no sign or message, no apparition or ominous sign. His father had been fond of ominous signs, always reading into events deeper than he should have. Perhaps Thranduil ought to have listened a little more intently. Somewhere in his far-fetched hypotheses truth may have lurked. But now it made no difference.

He had sat in his father's chair, stretching his arms out and running his fingers over the arm rests, along the edge of the white desk. He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling, upon which was painted an intricate pattern of silver and white flowers. Silver and white - the Sindarin colours.

Now stalking the halls in his black and gold robes, he felt more foreign than ever.

 _King..._

 _...Thranduil._

The words would not fit no matter how he sounded them out in his head.

A flicker of light caught his attention and he stopped in his tracks. There was a minute crack between the grand doors to the throne room. Thranduil stiffened and turned cautiously. There was not supposed to be anyone there at this time.

Apprehension and curiosity suddenly turned to anger.

He strutted to the doors.

* * *

Azriel curled her fingers over the arms of the throne. The wood was rough and dry, but she could feel the life breathing within. The sporadic reddish leaves shifted slightly though there was no wind. With infinite slowness she peeled her eyes open and inhaled.

And she stopped.

* * *

The doors opened soundlessly despite the force Thranduil pushed them with. His father had always liked silence in his halls.

He did not know what he expected to find, but it certainly wasn't what he saw.

There she was, dressed head to toe in black, blonde hair pinned back, sitting on his father's throne as if she had been sitting in it her whole life. She looked like a queen.

She did not move, though she had seen him.

"There is a wonderful view from up here," she said.

Thranduil's blood turned to ice in his fingers, but he did not say anything.

She raised an eyebrow and rose. She towered over him though he was still at the end of the hall. He crossed the distance between the doors and the dais with a little more grace than he had displayed over the past week. He wanted to be angry, but he did not even desire to sit on the throne, so how could he?

"Black does not suit you," he said as she stepped down from the dais. Now that they were standing on equal ground, Thranduil was the one towering over her, but Azriel being Azriel, stood tall in her own right.

"My mother chose it for the mourning."

A silence.

"Black does not suit you either," she said, though it was a lie. Thranduil looked menacing as he was, brows creased, hair unkempt, robes flowing all around him in waves. Like a sleeping dragon. She had never seen him like this.

Thranduil turned his gaze from her to the throne above.

"Is it wrong not to want it?"

Azriel frowned. "You do not want the throne?"

Thranduil looked down at her. "I'm not ready," he whispered.

Azriel searched his eyes for some sign of a bluff, some indication of a joke.

"I can't-"

The crack of skin against skin echoed against the walls, almost threatening to deafen. Thranduil took a moment to register what had just happened. He lifted his hand and touched his cheek. It stung.

Azriel's hand was bright red, but she didn't care.

"How dare you," she hissed, pressing her palm into his chest and pushing him back. "How dare you say that you can't."

Though he should have been angry, surprise and confusion passed over Thranduil's face. "I-"

"No Prince is ever ready to be a King, but he becomes one anyway. A Prince never has a choice." She stepped forward again, but did not push him. Instead she grabbed his collar and yanked his face down to her eye-level. "Did you stop to think about your kingdom before giving up? How can you be selfish enough to throw away your people?"

Something flashed across her eyes, something vulnerable, and Thranduil's heart began thudding in his ears.

Her voice lowered to a whisper. "I could have left with Azriel. But I didn't. I trusted that you would protect me. Protect us. And you can only do that when you have power."

She let go of his collar and jabbed a finger into his chest. "You do not have the luxury of being selfish, Prince Thranduil. The people do not care whether or not you are ready. They only care that there is someone sitting in that chair, telling them what to do."

Finally she stepped back and tilted her chin up. She lifted her hand, hesitated for a moment, then reached out and touched his reddened cheek.

"Tomorrow they will call you King. I will call you King."

* * *

The sunlight cut through Thranduil's window, illuminating the room with a bright yellow glow. There was a sweetness in the air.

Thranduil stood with his arms stretched out as the attendants draped a thin olive green cape on this shoulders. The train was so long it had to be bundled up to be kept from getting dirty. His robes were embroidered with gold and silver thread in a sweeping wave pattern. An attendant pulled a brush through his hair, newly washed and dried. With dexterous hands she pulled his hair back and began twisting it to pin into place. In the mirror Thranduil observed his features. Some colour had returned to his face - his left cheek discernibly redder than the right thanks to a certain someone - and his eyes had brightened, though perhaps that was just an after-effect of the sun's brightness.

The sound and movement faded into the background as he dropped his arms to his sides. He turned to see his mother standing by the door. She had shed her black dress and veil for a regal steel silver that resembled armour. Her crown was a smaller version of the King's, with paler branches and more leaves than nettles. It inspired love and familiarity rather than awe and fear.

"It is time."

* * *

Thranduil stood before the doors to the throne room. The two guards in front of him had their palms pressed to them, waiting. There was a shuffling of footsteps and shifting in fabric - the attendees had all stood up presumably. The guards gave each other a look, then pushed. There was no herald to announce his arrival. Everyone knew who would be walking through those doors by both name and face.

As the doors revealed more and more faces Thranduil spaced out. There was only the throne, dead ahead, and him. The train of his cape flowed out behind him like a river as he started forward.

 _King._

The high elf of Lorien Balinior stood by the throne, hands clasped to his abdomen. His hair was a pale wheatish colour common in Lorien, and his eyes were silvery grey. He had a long nose and high, pointy cheek bones. The slight hollows in his cheeks were the only signs of age anyone could notice. He must have been at least fifteen thousand years old.

 _Thranduil._

The crowd's eyes followed him curiously, but he hardly noticed.

 _King._

His mother stood at the other end of the throne, holding her sceptre.

 _Thranduil._

He stopped before the dais, paused, then knelt.

Balinor cleared his throat. The hall was so silent all noise seemed to be getting sucked into the walls whenever it threatened to rise.

"Prince Thranduil, do you solemnly promise to govern the Greenwood according to its respective laws and customs?" His voice boomed in the hall though he did not appear to be raising it.

"I solemnly promise."

"Will you execute the law of this land and cause justice, in mercy, in all your judgements?"

"I will do so."

"And will you, if the circumstances deem it so, defend your realm against its enemies, oppressors, and invaders?"

"I will defend it."

"Rise."

Thranduil tilted his chin up. As he rose two attendants lifted his long cape off his shoulders and stepped back. Thranduil eyed the throne carefully, taking a moment before walking up the steps.

 _King._

He sat down stiffly, arms and legs rigid and straight, palms facing upwards. Two attendants stood beside Balinor, one holding the King's staff, another holding the King's seal on a velvet pillow. It was all far too ceremonial. Far too much of a show. Balinor took the staff in both hands, tilting his chin down in reverence.

"By the power vested in me as a high elf of the Golden Wood Lothlorien I bestow upon you the symbols of royal office."

Balinor bowed and presented the staff in Thranduil's right hand. He clasped it in a white knuckle grip, pressing it hard into the ground.

 _King._

The high elf retrieved the seal in both hands and presented it to him. His fingers closed around the wooden block slowly. It fit comfortably in his hand, as if he was always meant to hold it. Which he was.

Finally Balinor retrieved the crown, carried on another cushion by a young elf who could not have been more than thirty years old - truly just a child - and held it up for the whole hall to see. Even Thranduil could see it - the red nettles and berries curled around the bark. It was a thing so easily broken, something any competent artisan could fashion in a day, yet it was more timeless than any crown of gold and silver. The magic within is what kept it alive through every season. Thranduil could feel it.

Balinor turned back and approached the throne with his arms outstretched. For a moment Thranduil forgot how to breathe.

 _King._

"In the name of the Holy Valar and the great elven houses of Middle Earth, I, Balinor of Lothlorien-"

Thranduil tiled his chin down as Balinor placed the crown over his head. The two branches that curled in front rested comfortably on his cheek bones. It felt light as air, as if there was nothing there at all.

"-now pronounce you King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm, Ruler over the Greenwood."

As the words fell out of Balinor's mouth

The hall held its breath.

Thranduil looked up at his mother, standing on his left side. The corner of her lip curled up slightly, and she nodded once. He looked straight into the crowd.

It was always so easy to find her. There wasn't anything special about her features, she really was just like most elves. It was just the way she looked at him, with that un.

Azriel smiled, wider than he had ever seen before.

Themra stepped forward and turned to Thranduil. They shared a look, and she knelt before him.

"My King."

The entire hall followed suit in a slow, synchronised motion. When all heads were lowered, Azriel looked up.

He could finally say it.

 _King Thranduil._

* * *

 **Loooooooong update I KNOW I'M SORRY there r no excuses.**

 **My original novel A Violet, Violent Spring is releasing October 20th on Amazon! Hope you add it on Goodreads :)**

 **Check out my insta corporal_carrot**


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